


With Eyes Shut, It's You I'm Thinking Of

by zialless



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Blow Jobs, Bottom Zayn, Face-Fucking, M/M, Riding, Top Niall, Toronto, versatile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:07:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4062823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zialless/pseuds/zialless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn gives a weak wave of goodbye. He leans against the wall, resting himself from company. For a while, he stays like this – still with his eyes barely blinking. So everyone was right after all, he did get the job.</p><p>Now what?</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Eyes Shut, It's You I'm Thinking Of

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii. Lawyer Au! Set in Toronto, Canada. 
> 
> Sorry, no beta (again). I had one but something happened so like, I basically edited the whole entire thing instead. I wish I got a beta for it. I think it deserves a proper read-through. Anyway... My fault for any mistakes, tell me if there's any. Comments ARE GREEEEATLY appreciated. Thank you, Suits for giving me some lawyer insight. AND, I am so sorry for my smut writing.
> 
> Disclaimer: This isn't real???? lol, uh except I'm using real companies and places that exist for this AU. However, I don't actually affiliate with them or know much of the companies. If they find me, oh my god... 
> 
> Let's keep it between us.
> 
> Talk to me - filipihoe.tumblr.com

It was a night for celebration, using the night as an excuse to get dressed, and drink lots and lots of alcohol – lots of it. Tonight was the simple $700 leather jacket he got from UK and white t-shirt for Zayn. Nothing too extravagant that he will find himself at the cleaners with his suit in his hand, paying half his bank account to rid his clothes off of tequila stains.  
  
He only owns one suit from International Clothiers that resides in his closet. Only one. The rest of his clothes are graphic t-shirts, designs leading to swear words, band logos, and unexplainable designs Zayn just really likes. They make him look tough, and he likes looking tough, despite the truth that he is not.  
  
He needs that suit clean due to the fact that there's nothing formal enough for him to wear for his interview tomorrow. He really needs to get this job if he wants to keep living in a condo. He is 24 – a big boy like him can't live for free and have his friend pay everything else. He will do anything to get hired and since first impressions get the better of everyone, why not put on a tie and jacket just this once?  
  
The night has barely begun and Zayn has found himself laughing his lungs out, shot after shot, liquor dribbling from the corner of his mouth when he swigs his fourth shot down. Reckless, messy, very willing – tonight was very much for all those things.  
  
His friends believed in a pre-celebration, that is why they are all out the night before his interview. At least he got that far. None of them have heard of a Paralegal until Zayn had admitted drunk one night that he wanted to be a lawyer but not involve himself in so much work that he finds himself balding or finds his roots greying. Then it came to him in a dream that they were called Paralegals. But, it didn't work out very well when he saw how little they do, so lawyer it is. However, for now, he's applying for a position as an associate.  
  
How this night is already going down – Zayn is giggling far off his wits into his friend's ear, laughing about the bad dancers on the floor. He acknowledges how hard they're trying – yet Zayn's not himself right now – nobody is, so he ignores the “thaaaaaaat's rude!” commentary from Harry. He is taking sips out of Harry's glass of iced tea mojito, from time to time rolling his eyes and squawking about how weak his choice of drink is before taking a sip again. He does it over and over again for a while until Harry's drink is halfway to the bottom and Zayn is losing the idea of getting home at least before 2 AM so he could get a bit of rest for his interview. Better some than none at all. It's no big deal anyway – he and his friends get into the club for free.  
  
“Smell my breath,” Zayn titters before breathing on Harry's neck. Like he is able to smell his breath from there. Surprisingly, he actually can. His breath is just so strong of rum and vodka mixed together.  
  
“It smells like – disappointment.” Harry concludes for the sake of making Zayn laugh.  
  
He does eventually, stopping himself by biting his lip when he starts to blink at this crazy couple. They are barely two feet away from him and even drunk, watching them kiss was just a tick itching at his neck.  
  
He is drunk, of course. Things change sometimes – like Zayn's perception of watching them make out. One of them was fit, triggering Zayn to wonder why someone like him would be licking in the mouth of some guy who looks – not attractive but not ugly either. He's in between the scale where Zayn could say he's mediocre – not eye-catching like the blond.  
  
How could his eyes not be caught on the daunting pair when the hazed, blue eyes have been snared by his as well. Zayn keeps a still, plain posture while the crowd weighs around them. He directs his palpable intuitive attention to him. He isn't feeling envious but he's not pleased about it either. Zayn is utterly naive of the glare in his eyes and the pout of his lips, still watching their lips lock as if tomorrow isn't going to come.  
  
“Don't do that to yourself,” Harry turns Zayn's head from their direction to face anywhere but towards them. “Let's hit the floor before we leave.”  
  
“But Harry—” Zayn gets cut off when Harry's arm goes around his shoulder to take him to the floor.  
  
It's uncharacteristic of Zayn to be bounding to the floor with Harry trying to catch up. Maybe it's the raspberry drink he took from Harry before the iced tea. The switch of atmosphere quickly changes Zayn's mood as well, who's already pitching his fist up in the air, jumping, jumping, until he could find his fist reaching closer to the ceiling than anybody else's. The jumping stops, but there's screaming that begins when Harry joins in, and Zayn finds it highly fascinating how Harry's hair bounces to his movement. Zayn throws his arm around Harry and nods his head to the beat while his other arm slowly bounces in the air.  
  
“Fuck, fuck,” Harry puts both hands on Zayn's shoulder.  
  
“What's wrong?” Zayn's arm drops to his side.  
  
“My ex is here.” Harry exclaims, holding Zayn's jaw when he moves Zayn's head to the direction of his trouble. Zayn notices a girl with thick, curly hair and olive skin, dressed in black from head to toe. Someone like her doesn't want to stand out with that much shade of colour, but hell, Harry must've noticed her like a hawk eying for its prey.  
  
“Say hi?” Zayn lifts a brow.  
  
“No! No hi. Just pretend—” Harry drags Zayn deeper into the crowd. “We're dating.”  
  
“S'easy.” Zayn shrugs. “How do you want this tuh'go?” Zayn can do this pretend thing really well. It's because he doesn't give a damn about a lot of things and it helps.  
  
Harry puts his chin on Zayn's shoulder, putting his hand on his shoulder blades. “Pretend you're turned on by this—and hold my neck.”  
  
Zayn grins, holding Harry's nape. This is where Zayn's expertise of acting comes along where he adds the extra bits like pressing his fingers on his neck, inching into the roots of his hair – the intimate stuff. “Oh Harry, I don't have to pretend.”  
  
“How drunk are you?” Harry smirks close to Zayn's ear. Harry has to take part of this charade as well, as much as he doesn't want to. He really doesn't. They're just really good friends without restrictions.  
  
“How much do you miss her to be doing this, hm?” Zayn presses his face on the side of Harry's profile.  
  
“Shit, you take pretending somewhere else—uh, I don't.” Harry closes his eyes. It takes a few seconds to pass before he opens them again.  
  
“That's cute.” Zayn laughs. “You were always a shit ass liar.”  
  
Harry stays quiet despite that Zayn's waiting for a reply. “Okay, she's gone. Feel free to continue fucking around. I'm going to Leigh.” Harry shoves him off before he could say anything.  
  
Zayn looks around him, bothered by the people dancing around him. God, how do you leave a friend on the dance floor?  
  
The bass had increased over time, drubbing the inside of Zayn's body where his heartbeat seems to be non-existent. A good song is playing right now, yet his friends – and Harry – were all too busy to consider sitting down with Zayn to get some rest.  
  
He shoves through the crowd, making a quick face of surprise when he feels a girl's drink had tipped over. His outburst is under his breath when he gets pulled back to stay by his wrist. Life is done for him at exactly this moment. Club fights aren't exactly Zayn's area of capability but he'll fight when he's needed to.  
  
He turns his head to the hand grabbing him back, and finds himself with his eyes completely glued onto the same blue eyes he came across before. Zayn can't forget the same ones who caused the ease in him to suddenly shift.  
  
His hair is poking out in all directions; more tousled than the first time he saw him. His thin lips have just somehow gotten full, and through the tint of purple from the club lights, Zayn could still see the red flush of his cheeks.  
  
He let the blond pull him closer, but still leaves some space unlike the rest of the people around them. His hand settles at the curve of Zayn's neck, feeling his fingers press through his hair. Then there's this one particular feeling behind his ear from his thumb Zayn falls into, and leans his head towards the blond who's just at the side of his head.  
  
_Yes_ , whisper in his ear. Zayn likes the hot breath ghosting around his ear when people start to get evocative. He likes how voices hum, how manipulative people could be just by this little thing he calls whispering. It fuels his pride when he's the only one who could hear things be shared with him, especially like right now. If they weren't close like this, Zayn wouldn't have figured out that someone at the club actually smells good – for once.  
  
“Where are you running off to now?” He says like he's crooning, his fingers caressing Zayn's skin. It's hard to overlook something like this.  
  
“Gonna sit,” he replies blandly, but his body says otherwise when he sways into the lad, his lips nearing right into his ear. He doesn't realize his hand is holding the lad's jaw, pushing him close to his mouth.  
  
Zayn takes a step away when he remembers Harry, just to be grabbed back again around the same wrist.  
  
“That's boring,” there is a tone in there that makes Zayn lift his brow with the corner of his lips quirking up.  
  
“And... What do you have in mind?” Zayn tilts his head onto the lad's, brushing his lips over the curve of his jaw. “Oh no, I might know.”  
  
“Yeah?” He chortles, “Enlighten me.”  
  
Zayn sways his head left and right. “Mhm, alright.” He grins, rolling his eyes. His mouth parts open, uses his thumb to tilt the blond's head back, and pushing his mouth under the curve of his jaw. His tongue flicks on the spot, hoping this would voice out all the things he wants to do with him.  
  
He doesn't mouth at his skin for a few seconds. It's not even for a minute – it's two minutes of his time that he spends kissing him; moving his head into it, feeling the skin between his teeth. Pulling his mouth away from his skin, he still keeps close by – leaning his face on the side of the blond's head.  
  
Zayn can't see that the guy is choosing to keep his eyes shut. As for Zayn's lips, they part from each other – letting the inhales and exhales flow through trembling and airy. As far as Zayn can tell, they're both drunk and willingly stupid.  
  
“You'll kiss me like that,” Zayn lists tautly and dashed, “then you'll leave, and then you'll find another somebody to make out with until you're satisfied enough to take them home.”  
  
“You think I'll do that to you?” He laughs. “I looked all around the club for you.”  
  
Zayn's eyebrows narrow in together. “That doesn't make me feel better.”  
  
He catches a tone of discomfort in Zayn's voice, taking it in him to peck the curve of his jaw and trail down, doing a few more to take out that uncertainty. He can already figure it out Zayn's willing when he sees his jaw tighten.  
  
He pulls back; brushing his lips down the line of Zayn's jaw, leering. “So let's leave and I'll make you feel better.”  
  
Drunk and horny – the offer sounds so beautiful, so there weren’t choices but one for Zayn to choose. There is nothing for him to lose out of this. By this time, he's bidding his goodbye to Harry, Danny, and Leigh at the counter – all three grinning and snickering at Zayn because he deserves to settle down and relax, even if that means he's going home with someone else.  
  
When Zayn gets to his condo, he's already pursued – jacket torn off while their mouths feel each other's tongue. His lips are getting licked and bit a lot, stuck in between the guy’s most of the time. He can feel the blunt nails of his dragging at the small of his back, under his shirt. His hands feverishly sliding and rubbing as he looks for a spot he's never felt before. At this rate, he'll have had his skin warmed even more than what the alcohol has done already.  
  
“Shit,” he breathes over Zayn's parted lips before pushing his back against them. He takes the hem of Zayn's shirt, bunching them into his fist before pulling it over his head. His hands start to knead Zayn’s back all over. This time, his arms are hooked under and his fingers outline Zayn’s shoulder blades. Even his muscles, though they're indefinite — the blond still knows they're there.  
  
Zayn's knees hit the back of the edging of the bed, falling back onto the mattress. The lad is already stripping Zayn off his trousers, settling a knee between Zayn's legs when he finishes.  
  
He's jutting his hips up as his breath gets heavy. His hand rubs over Zayn’s clad dick, ignoring his own that grows through his jeans. His fingers rub down at the head while he palms the base, watching Zayn's leg bend closer to his face, his legs opening wider. And Zayn could swear it's not the alcohol taking over when he felt a quick run over his entrance.  
  
“Fuck,” Zayn exhales as his head tilts back. “Suck me off—” he huffs tautly when he feels a lift off the bed and it's the lad undressing himself in front of him. A clear view of his thumbs digging below his boxers and jeans – while Zayn, who's already kicked his boxers off, takes his dick into his fist, pumping slow and rhythmic.  
  
“Then move up,” he grins at Zayn who doesn't wait to inch up. The lad's knees are on the bed, dick in his own fist as well.  
  
Zayn's not really thinking at the moment. Plus he's drunk. He would never move so quick for anyone. He wouldn't even let anyone tell him what to do. They don’t even know each other’s name. Yeah, he's fucked a lot of people, no more over ten. Most of the time, he’s always lead. Maybe tonight's a break. He doesn't mind it at all.  
  
His legs are open enough he could feel the lad's hair brushing his skin just between his thighs. He's sitting on his knees, bent over mouthing on the inside of his crotch. Yet, Zayn's itching for his dick to get sucked and it's just really close but it's not happening.  
  
Not until he starts whining that the lad's attention moves over to the length of his dick, tongue running flatly up until it flicks over the trail of hair under his bellybutton.  
  
Deep within his throat, Zayn shudders in ease when he listens to the wet slurp, feeling the tight ring of his mouth sucking and sucking. It was a bit romantic in his idea – the lad's fingers are caressing the side of his thighs. No one could get any lovelier than appreciating skin.  
  
“Oh god,” Zayn whimpers, watching the lad bury his face as he pushes his mouth all the way through. He shakes his head as he tries to push past his throat more, and with all that he can, he's really trying to withhold coming so quick already. “T-That's—good.” Zayn grunts when he feels his tongue swivelling on the side of his dick, the tight mouth around getting tighter that his cheeks hollow in.  
  
He pulls up licking Zayn's slit while their eyes meet. His tongue's digging through for Zayn, when Zayn's starting to breathe heavy already.  
  
“Fuckin' hot.” He exhales just before he sucks the head of Zayn's dick, hearing Zayn moan and turn his head to the side when he pulls his lips off for that lewd smack.  
  
He mutters lowly, “Look at you.” Zayn ignores the smirk on his face when he lies on top. “So beautiful.” He moves his legs off to either side of Zayn's body. He sits up on his knees, his dick crossed with Zayn's. He starts to move his hips over, pushing forward before pulling back – his dick is rubbing against his. His hand stays Zayn's dick while he grinds against it, slow and steady.  
  
Zayn, on the other hand, he's been groaning non-stop, a second after with a few more to pass. He bites his lip watch the lad's hips move over him. And his hand fists around both their dicks, pumping while grinding.  
  
This night will be good. Zayn can already see it through his shut eyes.  
  
-

-  
  
The throbbing of his temples doesn't hurt as much as he thought. It's still there but its timid when he wakes up at 6AM, legs tangled with the lad's body, moonlight lit over his pale skin. Zayn's thighs hurt from holding himself down just two hours ago.  
  
The way his legs were held up wide in the air and the way his body was thrusted in, it made him not want to move. He still feels the shivers down his spine when his chest was being kissed down – even the sheets under his feet that rubbed and burned his skin when the blond's mouth went down on him, sat down on his knees between his legs.  
  
It's hard to look at him, now succumbed in his dreams, lying still in peace, his body barely rising and falling when he breathes. Like it wasn't just a moment ago he was cursing and mewling, bruising Zayn's skin purple and red like a plain canvas. The closest moment of ever feeling off his feet would be the feeling of the blond's hands around his naked waist, thumb subconsciously caressing him even though he's asleep.  
  
He looks back over his shoulder when the hand on his body starts to press tighter, arm making itself farther around. His eyes blink, adjusting to the nature's light peering through his window. Eventually, he looks straight at Zayn—realizing his eyes are looking at him as well.  
  
“You're awake,” it sounds more like a question than an observation. And it's a disappointed ‘question’ at that.  
  
When Zayn picks up, he nods weakly. “Yeah, gotta go home.” Because I have a goddamn interview wringing my neck that I have to practice for.  
  
“You'll be fine?” He asks Zayn, putting his hand on his back when Zayn sits up gathering his clothes. It's too dark for him to see what he's picking up and what he's missing in his hand. He's not even sure where his socks are. “Can't stay long enough until I take a shower or somethin'?”  
  
“I really would join.” Zayn admits. He really would, just too see the glistening of his body when the water drapes over. Shit, Zayn can't have those thoughts right now. He's already seen the lad wet when he came on himself and Zayn had to lick up cum off. Even now, that's a bad thing to look back to. “But tonight was great.” He concludes.  
  
“Yeah,” he sighs in relief. Zayn feels the bed weighing just a bit lighter and it's because the blond's sitting up. Then he leans on Zayn's back who leans back into it. Zayn tries not to think of this as a big deal, and even tries to avoid counting every nerve reacting to the touch.  
  
His hand goes over on Zayn's hip bone, his chin hooked over his shoulder. His breath blowing out from his nose. Quiet and calm wasn't there idea three hours ago. “Fuck, you look really good.” His hands inch closer at the spot between his legs where the torso meets. And the rush was coming back, taking Zayn into a weak state all over again.  
  
But he thinks about tomorrow – or today, and it already sends him to a weak panic. Zayn laughs breathily, almost like a scoff. “I just woke up.”  
  
“That's the really annoying part.” Zayn could hear the roll of his eyes.  
  
“I do have to go.” Zayn leans his head back, feeling the breathing happening on his neck. Hairs begin to stand.  
  
“Okay,” he mutters, turning Zayn's head towards his face where he closed his lips over his. This time, it's quiet, slow, and collected. Not like three hours ago Zayn could feel the lad dragging his parted lips up from his chin to his bottom lip. “Careful.”  
  
He rests back on the bed, running his hand through his hair as he watches Zayn put his clothes back on.  
  
-

-  
  
It's an early morning for everybody at the condo. Surprisingly, no one's lost a tooth or a liver after last night.  
  
“Why should we hire you out of the hundred who are also applying for this position?” Harry asks Zayn from the countertop table, reading off possible questions they ask in job interviews they just found on google. He's also eating breakfast. A generous guy, really, who doesn't cook for the others currently here in their apartment.  
  
“Because I look good in a suit. So every one of you at the office could check me out and I wouldn't mind.” Zayn shrugs, waiting impatiently by the toaster for his bagels. All the alcohol and sex from last night drained him to plan to toast another bagel.  
  
“I'd hire him!” Leigh jokes into her tea, before taking a sip. “It's true.”  
  
Zayn nods at Leigh as his thank you gesture before looking at Harry whose jaw is slacked open in disappointment.  
  
“Okay—I'm a hard working individual who's got priorities for the people.” Zayn rolls his eyes, restating his answer as he lays out his hand. He doesn't have to be such a dramatic kind of guy.  
  
Harry winces at him. “Better. But not good enough.”  
  
“Are you 18 or older, looking for a Russian hot mama?” Danny reads when he snatches the paper from Harry's grip, stifling over his laughter with Leigh.  
  
“No, I'm looking for a hot daddy.” Zayn laughs. “Instead, I live with a big baby.” Harry glares at him after.  
  
“Shit, Harry, you're going to let Zayn speak about you like that?” Leigh raises her eyebrows.  
  
“He can't even answer simple interview questions so I don't know why he's talking at all.” Harry shakes his head, sipping the drink of the soulless: black coffee. “Besides, who's the one paying for the groceries, rent, and Netflix?”  
  
“Feisty. It's only 8AM, you know. Hold off on me.” Zayn drops the toasted bagels on his plate. He takes the sausage patties off Harry's plate, covering it with the rest of his eggs. So much protein and carbs for one guy – nowhere to even put it off.  
  
“You need this job Zayn, or you'll have to end up living three hours away from us.” Harry scolds harsh, and not just because he stole his breakfast – the one he cooked hard for.  
  
Harry's right, as annoying as he is nagging Zayn like this in the morning. It's not that Zayn never had a job – he worked at Metro as a fruit stacker. And it sucks! He was tired of having apple wax under his fingertips at the end of the day.  
  
Harry glares at him through his mug, “And cover up your hickeys.”  
  
“What?” Zayn's hand instinctively covers the curve of his neck.  “They're not going to hire me off based on the visibility of hickeys.” Zayn spreads the butter over his top bagel. “Besides, hickeys go away fast, right?”  
  
“Not yours. It's like deep red.” Leigh's finger settles just at the edge of the bruise where it's peeking. “Harry though, calm down. Zayn's going to get the job. We believe in him.”  
  
“I-I-I do too!” Harry stammers over his words. So supportive of him that he launched himself up from his seat to declare it stuttering.  
  
“Yeah, I know Harry.” Zayn throws his arm around his shoulder. “And I will get the job for you.”  
  
“Great,” Harry pats Zayn's on settled on his shoulder. “So wash up. You stink.”  
  
So Zayn does after eating, running a soaped cloth over his nape, and rubbing off the collected dirt from last night. He adds more of the soap, hoping the shea butter scent would add when he wins his future boss over. He really needs the job. It's the best firm in Toronto and he's lucky to have had the opportunity even get an interview out of many applicants. He'll be able to do it. He has to. He can't keep letting Harry pay the majority of their rent.  
  
He looks at himself through the mirror, rubbing his beard. He's contemplating whether he should shave it all off or let it grow thicker. He turns his head left and right, pouting his lips out. Eventually, Zayn does shave before slapping himself with aftershave. He looks really forward to impressing and he'll do it gladly.  
  
He's not nervy. He's not even speechless when he remembers the shit-stained questions they ask. He just doesn't like rejection – never had, never will.  
  
He wears the one suit he owns – some dark grey slate suit jacket. To hide his hickey, he's got this untouched burgundy turtleneck his gran bought for him as a birthday present. He's always hated turtlenecks. It feels like a choke hold. For pants, he slips into the one that's the darkest and less wrinkled. Everything works if Zayn has the jacket – that's all that matters.  
  
And if he actually gets the job, he'll have the money to buy more.  
  
Zayn leaves an hour prior to his interview on the heart of Bay Street – the concrete jungle of Toronto. But the 504 and 509 street cars couldn't choose to be a problem on another day. It's always delayed somehow and somewhere.  
  
Now he's the typical business worker rushing to work with either a coffee in one hand or a cigarette. Right in this moment, he's holding nothing but his anxiety through his fist. He dodges the many bodies rushing through his way, his instincts kicking in like his life depends on it not being body checked. His interview is in two minutes in a building where his future boss decided that it was a good idea to set the interview 48 floors high.  
  
He catches his breath when he makes it in safe through the revolving door. That's a skill he needs to figure out if he's going to be working here.  
  
He didn't think the elevator would be full on the first floor. Bodies piled and piled until Zayn was pushed into the back corner, with someone's side bag pushing against his dick. It takes 30 seconds for all the floors to be pushed, and a minute ride is turned into five minutes. People turn their heads at him for a moment before they could look at who's leaving the elevator. Everyone except Zayn realizes how heavy and fast he's been breathing. Well, none of them are here for an interview now are they?  
  
When he pushes through the stiff and tough bodies, he steadies himself with both feet planted on the floor. He scans the place, noticing two others on the other side of the glass room. They must be waiting too.  
  
“I believe you're Mr. Malik?” The secretary looks at him convinced. “You're last on the list.”  
  
“Uh, yes.” He gives a rigid nod. There's another glass room inside the glass room, and a part of the window is opaque, blocking Zayn from seeing anything happening. He sees their blurred figure on office chairs, except their feet. Those he can see. Zayn suspects that’s the room.  
  
“Here at Norton, we hire the best candidates for the job.” She begins. Oh _fuck_ , it's that question. “Why should we hire you?”  
  
“Oh, _becauseIlookgoodinasuit_ … A-and when I look good—s’everyone’s happy.” Zayn blurts out. That's possibly the worst answer anyone could have given.  
  
She lifts a brow before shaking her head. Hey, at least she's smiling. That's good right? “You'll be called when it's your turn. Please, have a seat. Would you like anything?”  
  
Zayn shakes his head, waving his hand in protest. He sits beside this lady with light skin and dark, black, short hair, knees bouncing with her hands folded together.  
  
“Um, are you okay?” Zayn bothers to ask. He could see the sight of petrification in her eyes.  
  
“Oh, y-yes. I'm alright.” She nods, her eyes focused in gape. “I-It's just been a really long day.”  
  
“Really?” Zayn grimaces around. The whole foyer is empty but the three of them.  
  
“The boss hasn't—” She cuts herself mid-sentence. It's not even at the tone she must have thought it would be good. “Everyone leaving has this look of horror on their face.” She mumbles discreetly.  
  
“Really?” His eyes widen at the door before shifting in his seat.  
  
“Some of the interviews are quick and some are long.” She explains. “There have been three that have already left who've done their interview and it didn't last as long as any of us expected.”  
  
“How long?” Zayn's finger taps on the side of his thigh while his foot taps.  
  
“It was a minute!” Her breathing trembles. “How do you get to know—” She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Zayn watches her meditate on the spot, muttering to herself, _happy thoughts, Asami. Happy thoughts._  
  
**Harry, I'm fucking screwed.** Zayn texts before he could lock it and tap his phone on his chin. Every time he looks at that one room, nothing's changed from what he can see. And that's the terrible thing that forces Zayn to sit like anything but still. He knows something has changed that determines that guy from being hired or scarred for life.  
  
**What's wrong??????!** Harry texts just a minute after.  
**  
Someone juuust told me people were getinng inferviewed for a minute ?  
  
How come? That's not fair  
**  
**I know! It dpends. They said there's also people who get intveried a long time**  
  
**I fon't wanna be interviewd for a minute!!!!! ))));: im goood!!**  
  
**You won't! I believe in you!**  
  
**WHYD YOU TAKE ME OUT TO CELEBRATE LAST NIGHT? I HOULDVE BEEN GOING OER MY QUESTIONS**  
  
**SORRY?**  
  
Zayn leaves it at that. He's made himself too nervous to reply even to Harry. He hands are clammy, and he's holding his temples. Not because he has a headache. It's a way to obstruct his view of the room. Nibbling on his bottom lip, his mind is flourished with a billion interviews going on. He thinks of a question to answer, and at the same time – he's already answering, how do you work under pressure? What skill do you bring into the company that would change us as a firm? What are your weaknesses that hold you back from working in your full potential? And the worse one yet, Why do you think the firm should hire you?  
  
Oh, how does Zayn know? He's a trembling panic.  
  
He's sitting here for half an hour now. The girl whose name is apparently Asami, has already been called inside, and the lad who's been here before Zayn was called in too. His interview didn't last as long the girl's but he doesn't know that because he's already left. Zayn wants his interview to last longer than everybody's combined today.  
  
Asami's making her way out now. Zayn's sitting up to hear the overview. He was expecting the sullen expression she described on everybody's face before her, and no – Zayn's quirks his eyebrows up when she's pushing the door open with her head held up with a grin. So she did well? Does he wanna see anyone else after her?  
  
“I got the job.” She shrugs her shoulder in a cocky custom. “I just know it.”  
  
“O-oh.” Zayn stammers. He doesn't have to be happy for her does he?  
  
It's quiet but the clicks of the keyboard at the reception table are all Zayn could hear. There's a hum coming from the AC that sounds a lot like the blood rush going through his head. If she was there for half an hour, how long was he going to be staying? Twenty seconds?  
  
“Alright, Mr. Malik. Head inside.” The receptionist gestures with her pen, towards the room where he could see his future boss sitting cross-legged. The wagging of his foot through the opaque glass tells Zayn he's already seen enough for today.  
  
He's walking, hands continuing to be clammier than ever when he feels his foot not doing walking properly. He looks down – they do seem to be fine. Maybe it's the steps he hears that echoes through the floor that doesn't sound right. Yeah, that's it. The guy before him had a solid sound of confidence. His just sound like the tapping of cheap high heel shoes and it sounds worse than Asami's. He's not even wearing high heels.  
  
When he pushes through the door, he takes a deep breath. His huff becomes taut when he barely breathes out. The hands, he knows the hands of this guy very well. He's jotting something down on the paper, focused like Zayn's not in this room. If he looked up, he'd too, would stop breathing with Zayn.  
  
His cheeks are hot, quickly spreading everywhere on his face when he stares. Fuck, it's the same tousled hair. It's the same everything!  
  
“Hi, I’m Niall Horan.” He starts. Zayn swallows quickly. “Welco—”  
  
His pen drops, the AC stops, the doors finally clicked shut, and no one's taking any chances of breathing. When he knit his eyebrows together, it made Zayn's heart beat faster than nothing before. It beat like last night.  
  
These are the same blue eyes from last night that looked at him libidinous when he licked his dick and fucked him between his legs that were just wide open because Zayn was so fucking desperate to feel his body being rammed and rocked. He's not so desperate now when he looks at their environment. Now his eyes are travelling up and down on his body just like they were last night with a little more dread and shock. He shuts his eyes and blinks them open, and Zayn is still here standing petrified and far from relief.  
  
“ _Holy fuck_.” He says, holding his temple before he could comb his hair back. “I think I'll have to cancel our interview.”  
  
And Zayn's heart drops. His words are coming back most definitely.  
  
“Just give me a chance.” Zayn states, his temper collected and hidden. “T-This isn't fair. None of us really knew this was coming. Please, sir—”  
  
“Enough,” he says, trying not to yell at Zayn. “I've made my decision and I'm not going back against my word. I'm sorry.”  
  
Now Zayn's back to being silent. He rather stay speechless than the opposite where he'll find himself escorted out instead of his free own will.  
  
He waited here for forty five minutes, and got nothing but a no without an interview. All he can say is, “thanks for your time.”  
  
He shoves the door out of his way, pressing and pressing for the elevator to come because there's nothing more for Zayn than to leave this shit ass place. Fuck, if he has to move back to Bradford just to get a job, then so be it. Nothing is clearly working out for him in this goddamned city.  
  
Push aside last night's affair; Zayn would have ignored all of that just to work by his side. He's been a great deal around the firms. He's always heard so much about him. He didn't know his name – they just refer to him as the guy who wins all of his cases. He knows how he looks like, and he knows there's a reason why people are so talkative about him. It's just not fair he wasn't given the chance to show his potential.  
  
Zayn feels sick to his stomach, not because he never knew that would have been his boss. Yes, it's weird to have fucked his ex-future boss but he needs someone to count on, and Zayn couldn't have been a better choice. He would have known Zayn's glorious way of words and manipulation. If only he had interviewed him.  
  
He could bet Asami he was out of there quicker than everyone combined.  
  
When the elevator dings for the ground floor, he's quick to step and walk out.  
  
There's another elevator as well. It dings open and Zayn's taking a deep breath to avoid the humiliation being put on him. He knows that elevator's full of those stuck up employees who haven't done anything the whole day but would go out for lunch like they deserve the hour. No... It's just footsteps from one person. Followed by “Wait!” That he chooses to ignore. They could not be any more serious and unprofessional.  
  
“Mr. Horan would like to formally apologize for the unprofessional behaviour.” They exclaim when they jog behind Zayn. He stops and turns to look at this blonde – hoping the apology is worth turning around for. Of course, it's the secretary.  
  
“He'd like for you to come back upstairs for a proper interview.”  
  
“That wasn't fair.” Zayn mutters, rolling his eyes as he kneads his fingers on his nape. “I feel humiliated.” But that doesn't mean he'll turn it down.  
  
She grins apologetically, clicking her pen, balancing on each leg back and forth before she turns to the elevators. “If you still want to go through the interview, follow me back upstairs.”  
  
Well no shit, Zayn thought. Of course he would go back up. He's here primarily for a job not to check out the building, not to visit him who he never assumed – would be working here in a high position.  
  
It's quiet in the elevator – empty too. The one time Zayn needed the company of others, they all failed him. He did complain about the many people who came in here earlier. He guesses it's karma because now, he starts to think about yesterday night. He would have never guessed him working here. That blond at the club was just so sweaty and confident; the club slut who went around testing everyone on who'd be the best to take home – and now, he's dressed to the point Zayn can't remember what he looks like without clothes. Not that he needs to.  
  
Zayn's back in the interview room. The blond sat quietly while Zayn waits for instructions. Zayn avoids looking at his eyes as he continues to piece everything together. He still can't believe this is going to be his boss.  
  
He's searching for a pen that leads him to frisk his torso and pockets and Zayn remembers the one he dropped on the floor. He picks up the pen, placing it on the corner of the table before sitting down. He rolls his chair back at least half a meter so he'd be able to breathe.  
  
“Thanks,” the blond sighs, blinking his eyes feverishly and wide. He picks up the pen, and begins to tap on the paper he's looking over. He takes a few deep breaths before “M-my name's Niall Horan,” rushes out of his mouth. “A-and as you know—” He looks at the paper again. “Zayn—sorry—I'm looking f-for someone w-who's... Sorry—I'm really tired.”  
  
Zayn shows a small grin when he shakes his head. “Um, it's okay. I'll just start by telling you a bit about myself? Is that alright?”  
  
“Yes, go ahead.”  
  
He takes a deep breath, swallowing down the anxiety then starts. Zayn can't avoid those blue eyes now. He'll have to look at him endlessly.  
  
Zayn starts on his name, agreeing it was Zayn. Two seconds after, he realized how stupid that was. Of course Niall knows his name; he's the one employing him. Zayn adds on to continue about more of the general things: how he moved here from Bradford, UK for post-secondary, how he graduated just two months ago and is now looking for work.  
  
Niall's nodding when he writes stuff down. From where Zayn is sitting, it looks like chicken scratch. Zayn can't read chicken scratch. Since he started talking, his eyes have never left staring at Niall.  
  
“Okay, Zayn.” Niall exhales, reading from his notebook. “Why do you want to work here?” He lifts his head up.  
  
“I believe this firm would be able to show me what I'm looking for.” Zayn nods nonchalant. “Not only am I looking for this company to show me the skills I need to succeed, I am confident that I am able to bring Norton Rose higher than it needs to be.”  
  
Niall's eyes become bright—his answer comes out unexpected. Even to Zayn himself, who didn't think he'd talk about himself like this. He did graduate only two months ago from UfT, and he did get an interview at one of the best firms of Canada. His word isn't out of vain as he thinks of it to be.  
  
All of the sudden, Niall gets up from his seat. That's not a good sign. Zayn watches his fingers link the buttons together of his suit jacket before proceeding. “I graduated from Harvard. Did you know that?”  
  
_Shit_. That's a red flag.  
  
It sounds pretentious as it is, yet Zayn doesn't think so. He might be as good as he portrays himself to be. Even better. “Top of the class, and worked my ass off to get to where I am today. It took me a few years to make a name for myself so what gives you the right to come here, reeking of confidence?” It looks like he's back on track. Zayn's past their encounter as well – he just wants to impress him now. If he made his eyes blue as yesterday, he can bag this in.  
  
“That's because I work triple the amount of times than you.” Zayn lifts a brow. “These days, writing has become looked upon and neglected, even in the position of an associate such as myself, it's what I bring.” Zayn gestures through his words. “It's essential, really. As a striving transactional and corporate associate, I'm able to draft resolutions, agreements, contracts, and related documents. The skill enhances our need to be persuasive, yet in a formal and concise way. Verbally and academically, I bring both.”  
  
Niall relaxes in his seat, opening Zayn's files. “In your resume, it states that you've also done some background work as a public defender for a year.” Niall crosses his legs. “Business transaction associate and public defender. Why those two?”  
  
“I wanna know how the world is in the opposites. I wanna see flourishing companies fall apart,” Zayn shrugs a shoulder, whether Niall approves or not. This interview was about letting his name be known. “And I wanna see those who've got nothing, have everything.”  
  
Zayn stays quiet when Niall doesn't utter any sign of acknowledging his answer. He's just too busy – if Zayn could say that – noting things down under his name. There's so much he had said already, and he's got even more if Niall would ask. How could he have written down all he's said?  
  
“You may have graduated fourth in your class, but what makes you different from the rest of the help I'm forced to interview?” Niall's voice is droll; fuelling Zayn to grow that smirk on his face. “You're a kid who spends his time at clubs. You aren't any different from the boys and girls I've seen today.”  
  
“Well, then you're no more different than I am.” Zayn cocks his head left, the smirk unchanged. “You wanna know what makes me different?” Rhetorically but Niall raises his chin in preparation.  
  
Zayn lets it out nice and easy, breathy, but stable. “I got you to sleep with _me_ last night.”  
  
“I think we're finished here.” Niall closes his book, lifting his chin up.  
  
Zayn leans forward from his chair. He stammered the first few minutes, rather forcing himself out the confidence he needed all this time. 10 minutes have already gone by since they sat in his room, and Niall had barely asked any questions to determine if Zayn was a good candidate to hire.  
  
“I've got what I need to know.” He says, standing up from his chair. “So see me on Friday of this week… For your follow up.”  
  
Zayn sighs. It's a bit of a relief to hear but not enough to relieve from the stress to know they've only went on for ten minutes. This is close as he can get saying he got the job to Harry, and then tell him it's actually a no on Friday when he comes for a follow up.  
  
Niall starts to collect his papers on the table, holding a folder with very loose papers stuffed inside, a pocket book it seems, and his tablet entirely all in one arm. The other extends to Zayn. Just as Zayn is about to reach, Niall could only save his tablet from falling. The rest spill on the ground, mostly at Zayn's feet. Niall's face heats and reddens, stammering silently over his word when he watches Zayn collect the papers on the floor.  
  
Zayn dismisses Niall until they're eye level, crouched over the ground. Zayn's eyes flutter back to his hand packing the papers in order. They're the resumes and he sees Niall had already made his decision on who to hire, noticing 'call back' in pen on the top of the page. He wished he saw his, even if it said nothing – though it'd ruin his mood completely through the weekend.  
  
“I don't mean to make things the way they are.” Niall concedes, patting the papers back in its folder when Zayn hands them to him.  
  
“It's alright.” Says Zayn, laced with a ton of lies and deceit. He's only suppressed everything to get through this interview. When he gets home, he'll be crying to Harry, screaming and yelling his anxiety out into a pillow that he slept with his boss. Because Zayn knows, it's not normal for someone to do. He's watched Horrible Bosses. He doesn't want anything like that to turn out between them. Not that Niall's a bad boss. It's not like he knew him well enough to judge.  
  
“Did you try to hide your—y-your...” Niall stammers, rubbing his neck.  
  
“No.” Maybe. It came rather subconsciously into his mind to wear a turtleneck. He didn't do it because Harry told him or what he thought his boss was going to think.  
  
“I apologize.” Niall blurts out. The two stand face to face, leaving an arm's length of space between them.  
  
Zayn shrugs, grinning from one corner of his mouth. “It's fine. Thank you for your time.”  
  
“I'll walk you out.” Niall's tone is stern—not hesitant anymore. “I'm leaving as well.”  
  
Another ride in the elevator with him. At least this time, they're going down and people have entered unlike before.  
  
Zayn doesn't know where he went afterwards when they left the building. He must've gone the other way while Zayn went to the direction of the streetcar going down to Spadina.  
  
He can't keep quiet through the day, waiting for Harry to come home or Danny or Leigh to come over to their place. His heart thumps to the train tracks he feels below his feet.  
  
Eventually, he meets up with Harry as Kennsington Market. He works at Dolce Gelato near the Blue Banana Market. A good corner in the market, with lots of people walking through carelessly in bliss. The only advantage for Zayn to go so far from their place – actually the opposite direction of home – is that he gets free gelato if Harry's working, despite the many customers glaring at Zayn.  
  
“So you got it!” Harry yells over the counter to Zayn. He started his shift at 1 o'clock which is one hour before Zayn left their place to go to his interview. He wouldn't be going home or getting any breaks any time soon if he's only worked two hours. And it's rare for the place on a Sunday of a summer to have Harry be able to count how many people there are in this place.  
  
“No! I said I'm getting the follow up on Friday.” Zayn grimaces at Harry's shit understanding.  
  
“Basically, Zayn—you got the job.” Harry shakes his finger at Zayn. “You must've been good in bed yesterday.”  
  
“Fuck!” Zayn blows out, gesturing his hand aggressively between each of his words. “Shut up! Shut up! I thought you'd help me out!”  
  
“I'm helping!” Harry bursts in laughter. “I'm giving you free gelato.”  
  
“Did _you_ fuck your boss?” Zayn exclaims. “Huh? Did you? No amount of this—” Zayn shakes his empty cup. “Will rid me of the memories of my boss's dick.”  
  
“Jesus, but it was good.” Harry shrugs. “You came back home, glowing!”  
  
“Before I knew he was my boss.” Zayn lets his arm fall on the table at the direction towards Harry.  
  
“I'm telling you, Zayn. You've got the job.” Harry holds his chin when he prompts his arm over the table. “That's the least of your problems. There's more to come and—”  
  
Zayn's face twists. “What, more sex?”  
  
“Yeah. I know how these things go. Trust me, it won't be that bad. In fact, it's kinky. You'll fuck in his office and rub each other's dick under the table. I think he'll be a nice boss.”  
  
“Harry, you’re an idiot.” Says a customer. She’s a regular costumer that comes often.  
  
“Hey! Shut up!” Harry yells to her, causing a few of the customers to laugh.  
  
“The problem is, I won't even mind.” Zayn grimaces at himself. “But that's my boss! Everyone knows you don't sleep with co-workers and clients. It affects everything.”  
  
“More importantly, you'll be paying bills with me! Yay!” Harry drums over the counter. “Celebration! Back to the club tonight.”  
  
“That's a joke, right?” Zayn raises his eyebrows.  
  
“Calvin Harris is there tonight. No one knows yet, but you know, the bartender just loves me enough to tell me this last week.”  
  
“And it's Danny's birthday as well. Shit.” Zayn pulls up from his chair before he's walking towards the garbage to throw his empty cup.  
  
“Oh shit!” Harry's eyes widen. “You got him a gift right?”  
  
“No!” Zayn rubs his mouth with a tissue.  
  
“Drop by Blue Banana! Buy him that pinball machine.”  
  
There’s a few clamour in the background of people protesting against that idea. Including Zayn, he shakes his head.  
  
“Chill out. That belongs there.” And not only does that pinball machine belong there, Zayn can't really afford anything there but soap. “He'll love jellybeans.”  
  
“You don't buy a grown man jellybeans!” Harry scoffs.  
  
“It's Danny?” Zayn scoffs mockingly. “I'll see you later. I’ll put your name in the card.”  
  
-

-  
  
The club bouncers didn't ask Zayn why he was holding a container full of jellybeans with a bow on top. Instead, they ignored the rules about bringing food in when they've become so familiar with Zayn's friends already.  
  
It's an hour before midnight, and they've already claimed their place that night before any of the newcomers had arrived. Everyone knows if the table's not claimed by midnight by Zayn or any of his friends, someone can take it.  
  
From here they could see Calvin Harris, who's just a few feet away from them. Zayn's in awe, but not starstruck where he'd jump on stage and mix with him.  
  
“Jellybeans!” Danny hears the rattling from Zayn's hand. He shoves the container to him before throwing an arm around Danny.  
  
“Happy birthday!” Zayn tries to yell over the music.  
  
Danny smiles. Zayn told Harry he likes jellybeans. Oh, he did! He did! “Thanks! And I heard what happened with your interview. I'm sorry.”  
  
“Fuck it. I'm here tonight. Calvin Harris is here, and it's your birthday!” Zayn sways him side to side.  
  
“Yes, the big ol' 23.” Danny smiles tightly, showing no teeth. “The coat dude is gonna hate me tonight because I keep making him put my gifts away. I'll be back.” And Harry goes with him.  
  
Leigh comes by their table, putting down four shot glasses. Zayn's face immediately twists, not because Leigh had come by. They always tease each other like that, but at the end, Zayn loves her like all of his friends. It's the vodka in the glass that makes him want to leave. Yes, he's at the club, yes, there's going to be alcohol. No, he's not going to fall into the temptations as much as he wants to drink.  
  
“Just do one.” She mopes.  
  
“I'm not feeling it toniiiight.” Zayn counters through whining.  
  
“Well, since we're all still sober, congratulations! Harry told us you got the job.” She rubs Zayn's back when his face is melancholic.  
  
“I only have a follow up.” Zayn shrugs, trying to force his grin to disappear when Leigh leans against him. “Nothing more.”  
  
“But everyone knows follow ups really lead up to getting accepted. Proud of ya,” she smiles. “I'm going to drink your shot on behalf.” She tilts the glass back to her lips, just for Zayn to halt her.  
  
“Nah, nah.” Zayn shakes his head, taking the glass away from her hand. “I'll drink.”  
  
“Sweet!” She laughs, but she gasps and turns Zayn's head away.  
  
“What's going on?” Zayn tries to turn his head but Leigh's hand holds his head.  
  
She looks over her shoulder, and then turns to Zayn. “Two o'clock, Harry's ex, right?”  
  
Zayn searches through the crowd, nodding his head to the music. He puts the vodka over his lips so it seems like Zayn's getting ready to do something reckless. Scanning and scanning does he eventually see her, and Niall?  
  
“Oh fuck!” Zayn swallows his shot down, turning his face completely away from the crowd, coughing his heart out. His chest races, not knowing why. Let alone Jess – Harry's ex is here out of all nights again – but she's friends with Niall. Why is the world so small?  
  
Leigh shakes her head. “We should totally get drunk and fight her ass for fucking with Harry like that.” Long story short – Jess broke up with Harry by dumping water on his head.  
  
“No, no. Let's stay away.” Zayn picks up another shot that he swallows. Leigh nears another one at his hand and avoids smothering Zayn with questions. He seems very troubled.  
  
“Oooh shit. I asked Calvin Harris to give Danny a shout out tonight.” Leigh bites her lip when Zayn stares at her. “Everyone's going to be looking at us and we're basically going to be in trouble.”  
  
“I am too! That's my boss with Jess.” Zayn huffs and huffs, rubbing his cheeks to ease.  
  
“The guy you went home with is your boss?” Leigh blurts a dreadful laugh as Zayn drinks down his third shot. “You could have never expected that!”  
  
“It's really awkward now.” Zayn swallows down the burning fire in his throat. “Are they gone?”  
  
“Yeah. I have no idea where they are now.”  
  
“Wonderful...” Zayn groans. “I wanna go home.”  
  
Danny suddenly bounds towards Zayn, throwing his arm around him. Well, Zayn can't go home now that Danny is here. Now he's really got to stay.  
  
Shit, he is really selfish. This is Danny's night. Not the night to make everything fall apart because his boss is at the same club as he in.  
  
So he lets the drinks come again, drinking and drinking does he let the alcohol take over his senses. His body numb when they dance within the heavy, sweaty crowd. Weightless was Danny to Zayn and Harry when the lifted him up. Zayn fell in love with Calvin Harris when he gave Danny the shout out while he was lifted above the crowd, bouncing and singing happy birthday at the top of their lungs. The whole crowd cheered for Danny, and all three of them – Zayn, Leigh, Harry – must've cheered the loudest. He loves his best friend enough not to forget his promised shout out, and Zayn loves his best friend too. A match set between Calvin and him.  
  
He's in many shots where he can't count the one he's tilting back on his lips. Everything's vivid, yet really blurred. How weird, right?  
  
He's laughing crazily when Harry's liquor dribbles out from the corner of his lips. It's uncontrollable that he pushes back against a body that's trying to make its way through the crowd.  
  
Zayn laughs an apology when he turns to look at the guy he pushed over. Despite being drunk, Zayn quickly rushes to his aid, standing him straight, brushing his shirt straight.  
  
Zayn's laughing. Laughing at everything. Laughing at his own thoughts. Laughing at his own laugh. Then it ends, slowly dying down. He chuckles at his hand that stays on the guy's neck. It's not just some guy Zayn has to wave goodbye to. In fact, a hello is in order.  
  
Zayn's laugh burgeons when he looks at Niall staring at him. “Oookay! This is really weird!”  
  
“Who're you with?” Niall asks, putting his hand over Zayn's head like he's sick.  
  
“Friiiends! Niall, did I get the job?” Zayn divulges out.  
  
“Whoa-hohoa!” Harry laughs pulling Zayn back with Leigh. “Sorry, sir. He's going home now. Say bye, Zayn.”  
  
Niall winces at Harry, studying him for a while. “Hey, wait. You're—”  
  
“I'm Frodo!” Harry nods his head in his assurance. “Sorry, sir. The ring's calling me.”  
  
“No, as a matter of fact, I need to speak with Zayn.” Niall juts his chin towards the stunned man caught in between everyone.  
  
“Sir, he's not really himself right now.” Leigh puts a sympathetic look on. “Can it be on another day?”  
  
“No, it can't. This can't continue at all.” Niall asserts. He's not stupid to figure out Zayn tells them everything, including their affairs.  
  
“He's not in trouble, is he?” Leigh queries.  
  
“Let me speak with him.” Niall directs his eyes to Zayn for a second.  
  
Nobody knows why they're actually listening to him. He's not their boss. He's Zayn's. For someone who's got the title over Zayn, he looks younger than him. The cherub face and petite lips shouldn't faze any one of them at all. But it does, and Zayn has been listening to their conversation this whole time. And it's funny; he's the one that calls Zayn the kid.  
  
He goes with Niall regardless of what everyone wants him to do. He's not on the verge of a hangover. All his senses are there – just not a hundred percent.  
  
The two stand in the hallway of the entrance. The bass is heavy over them, and Niall doesn't know if he can talk over without sounding so angry. Zayn doesn't know if he'll be able to catch what he’ll be saying to him.  
  
“Take this into consideration, Zayn.” Niall puts a hand on his shoulder. “Work must not be affected by our personal lives. You do things, I do things.”  
  
“Okay.” Zayn nods. Not like he realizes what Niall means but, “okay, okay.”  
  
“We're keeping boundaries set. Therefore, you could still think of me as your boss outside work if you wish. Though, it may not be best to do so, and I'm speaking for both sides.”  
  
“Okay.” Zayn nods, sighing quite audible.  
  
“I'd like to tell you this before Friday because it seems like I'll actually be seeing you around downtown quite often.”  
  
“Yeah,” Zayn nods. “I live here?”  
  
“I want to keep things professionally based as well,” Niall continues. “I want the both of us to forget our sexual affair, and think of Friday as our official acknowledgement of each other.”  
  
“Um, okay.”  
  
“I hope you remember this. I'll go through it on Friday again but I'll be expecting you to take some of this in. Stupid of me but really, I feel like something is off between us. I don't want that in my work environment. It won't do me good, and it won't do you good.”  
  
“That's true.”  
  
“Right now, I'm Niall. At work, I'm Mr. Horan. Is that clear?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Alright. Enjoy your night. It won't hurt to be too careful.”  
  
“Yeah, stay good.” Zayn gives a weak wave of goodbye. He leans against the wall, resting himself from company. For a while, he stays like this – still with his eyes barely blinking. So everyone was right after all, he did get the job.  
  
Now what?  
  
-

-  
  
That comes to the next few days like Mr. Horan had said. Meet him on Friday he said, and so he does. The bruises on his body have disappeared, including his neck. Goodbye turtlenecks and hello regular shirts.  
  
They're back in the board room, and no not in the small room where his interview was held. Between them, things feel lighter. The two can't believe each other at all – Zayn can't believe he remembers what Niall had said, and Niall can't believe Zayn remembers what he said.  
  
It's been a very long while since they've sat down and began their chat about contracts. Mr. Horan's just so formal and charismatic that Zayn has got no other choice than to take him seriously. Young as he looks, he's not interested in any foolish jokes in his office.  
  
Zayn reminds himself not to bring any of his friends over to his work place.  
  
“Listen once. I won't repeat myself.” Niall starts and Zayn peers off the contract.  
  
He's on full alert, ever since he came here to work for Niall – no sorry, Mr. Horan.  
  
“I expect you to come when I call. Is that clear?” Mr. Horan asks. Zayn doesn't nod or shake his head. It's rhetoric. “I expect you here on regular bases. If not, you'll usually be with the overseer of associates, Lincoln. However, if I want you in my office, you come right away.”  
  
“Yes sir.” Zayn blurts out.  
  
“You work Mondays through Fridays. 7 to 5.” His boss continues to list of demands and requirements. “Break is 15 minutes and lunch will depend upon your work of the day and how much you get done.”  
  
Zayn only nods this time.  
  
“You work under me.” Mr. Horan reminds him – his tone is malicious and deep. “You will work your ass off, day and night in this place. There's no time to waste here.”  
  
Zayn nods feverishly this time.  
  
“You want it; you have got to die for it.” Niall repeats one more time. “This isn't like your little summer job, alright? This is the real kind of deal. You wanna win. It's a must. There's no such thing as losing here in Norton.”  
  
Zayn's too overwhelmed to do anything now.  
  
“Now are there any questions that you would like to ask?” Niall folds his hands over the table. Zayn tries to limit the comments going around in his head about Niall – no, Mr. Horan – he can't forget that.  
  
Zayn reads his contract through one more time while Niall waits for him to sign. All twenty pages, no matter how shitty it is for him. He's a practicing lawyer. How bad would it be not to read documents being handed to a lawyer? Impressions – always make many.  
  
Zayn scans the page before taking a deep breath. “This contract ends on June of 2016. Will we be renewing based on new agreements or other terms?”  
  
They look at each other this time – a habit the two want to break but can't. “The company is based on seniority. Things change according to our position at the end of the year. If there aren't any changes or progress, then associates hired recently will be let go.” Mr. Horan's arm reaches out to his right, gesturing as he talks.  
  
“Based on what?”  
  
“I'm in charge of those under my division.” Business and transactional, Zayn remembers.    Niall makes an imaginary box on the table. “And based on the evaluations, Lincoln, or I, or Rachel will make the final decisions on who should stay and who we're letting go.”  
  
“That's fair.” Zayn agrees. No it's not but is he going to admit to his boss that their whole plan sucks? Not quite. Like Zayn doesn't know that the boss prefers those already working here. It's written between the lines.  
  
Zayn signs in the designated areas on the papers, and he hands it over to his boss who starts writing his signature at the bottom of the pages.  
  
“We'll start with a briefing next week Monday with the new employees in the office included.” Mr. Horan flips another two pages ahead, signing his name at the end of the page. “Manage to come a quarter to nine because I'll be expecting to start at nine. I start right on the dot. I will not be waiting for anyone to catch up and I will not stop to repeat myself. I'll only be wasting your time. Most importantly, my time.” He looks up deadpan, tapping his pen. “Is that clear?”  
  
“Yes, sir.” Zayn nods. “Is there anything else to add?”  
  
“Actually, there is.” Niall crosses his legs, resting his ankles on his knee. “I don't want to be biased and keep this aimed towards you but you're really the only one I've got to deal with in such a case.” Niall sighs. “I don't stress this to make you feel bad or make myself seem like I hated what happened. I'm just reminding you, that we're clearly off limits to any casual affairs. Especially for the both of us, I think it's affected us both already and I don't want it to.” Considering you're the only employee good enough to impress me, but Zayn lets that slip by his hearing. Mr. Horan slides the papers in his folder then. “But aside from that, lunch will be on me if you want to come along.”  
  
Zayn swallows, managing a breath out after. “I've got nothing on my schedule.”  
  
“Good, because I wanna see you drop this act with me.”  
  
Zayn's taken by surprise, almost breathing out his laughter. Is he already predictable? Today isn't even his official day and his boss is reading him like a level 1 book.  
  
He thinks it's not the best idea to go with him to lunch, but why not? He has to let the moment pass. If he's still stubborn, he can just ask Leigh to poison his food and kill him on the spot.  
  
She works at this restaurant Niall (Zayn's allowed to call him by his first name now since they're outside the building now) likes to go to. Funny how often the two are there and they never met until the night at the club. Funny how Leigh never talked about this good looking, particular guy being a regular visitor.  
  
It's a club-style restaurant with a bit of bistro incorporated, selling food from chicken wings to clam chowder in a bread bowl. He knows this because Leigh made him do a test to see if it's alright when she was switching from dessert to appetizers. Zayn thinks it's French. Niall thinks it's good with beer. Just not now. He'll be going back to the office momentarily.  
  
“Now you're quiet,” Says Niall when he pinches the lime over his coke.  
  
Zayn grins weakly.  
  
“How'd you get home on Sunday?” Niall stirs his drink. “Good? Didn't fall or anything?”  
  
“No, I got home on my two feet.”  
  
“How about your other friends?” Niall's expression changes. “Oh – I don't mean to switch things up, but your tall friend with the long hair—is that Harry?”  
  
Zayn stops for a second, remembering that Harry's ex is Niall's friend. Zayn hopes to play dumb through it. “Yeah, why?”  
  
“His ex – you know Jess right?”  
  
“Uh, no. Not really.” Oh yes Zayn does.  
  
“She passed me down a message to say hi.”  
  
“To who?”  
  
“You? I don't know. I'm just telling you.” Or that Niall's hoping Zayn passes it down to Harry for him.  
  
“Well, I barely know anything about her.” Or Zayn knows how much of a dick she was to Harry that Zayn wants to forget everything about her. “Tell her I say hi back?” How did Jess notice them anyway?  
  
“Small world.” Niall chuckles. “Right?” His tone inclines, hinting a subtle sarcasm. Zayn looks off to the side, trying not to laugh.  
  
Zayn continues to chortle, “just a bit.”  
  
And Niall's laugh burgeons. “S'a bad joke.”  
  
“No worries, sir.” Zayn sips his soft drink.  
  
“Sir,” Niall narrows his eyes, sounding disappointed when he repeats the word.  
  
“Sorry.” Zayn catches his mistake.  
  
It's not a habit Zayn wants to break. If he refers to him as sir, boundaries between them are going to be thicker. Better for Zayn to say than him accidentally spilling his name out when he's not supposed to.  
  
“Is that the only suit you own?” Niall's face is pained in expression.  
  
“Yes? I bought a few others as well. They're like $120 a piece.” It's really not the horrible as Niall sees it. He's wearing a regular black tie suit. Not much happening considering he just started.  
  
“Jesus Christ, no.” Niall shakes his head.  
  
“What's the matter?” Zayn looks down. Well, besides the subtle stain of toothpaste on his tie.  
  
“You do know you represent me now?” Niall's eye strains when he looks at Zayn.  
  
Of course he does. And it's stupid to have learned so late into the game that Niall's considered one of the best that represents Norton in all of Toronto. It would have been New York or Boston, but the American lifestyle wasn't cutting it with him, so he came here.  
  
“What's this?” Zayn holds a business card between his forefinger and thumb.  
  
“Tell them I've sent you.”  
  
“Well, how much does it—”  
  
“It doesn't matter how much it costs, Zayn.” Niall scoffs. “What matters is that I don't look like I hired a prepubescent boy. You have the weekend. I expect something new by Monday.”  
  
_Speak for yourself. You look way younger._

  
-

-  
  


When he begins to work around the office, he's introduced to a routine where his sleep is compromised. He gets none; not until the week is done where he'll sleep into the afternoon of Saturday.  
  
He hasn't visited Harry or Leigh since he started working. That Monday after the interviews, Mr. Horan had set up a meeting at exactly 9 – just like he said. Zayn, of course, arrived on time. As for the others who came just 5 minutes after 9, Mr. Horan's eyes hawked them down until they took a seat. He didn't wait like he said so, and ignored the questions from those who came late because he knew they were going to ask about what they missed.  
  
At least Mr. Horan was satisfied with the choice of suit – the slick all black attire with a silk collar and a silk golden handkerchief in the pocket of his chest. It's a huge step from what he wore before. Now he understands where Niall's coming from.  
  
There were at least 15 new employees altogether, plus Asami who's been treating Zayn lower than herself. A really smart ass paralegal to be exact. She's no different than he is. Everyone introduced themselves to each other, and then got a folder – along with a briefing. Every week, there's a new assignment for everyone to work on. Except Zayn.  
  
It's been a while Zayn worked alone. The first few weeks he emailed his work to Mr. Horan – wrote contracts and agreements for the following companies Mr. Horan represents. That is what Zayn is good for. People say Zayn is Shakespeare himself – if Shakespeare was an associate and not an actual play writer.  
  
But now, Mr. Horan won't let him take a breather and made him his main writer while helping Mr. Horan with other cases. Even with his way with words, Zayn has taken the role of his right hand communicator at certain meetings. The more Mr. Horan involves Zayn in these cases and meetings, the more confident he's getting. He didn't think after four months working in an actual building overlooking Toronto, he'd be in this deep. He is just a new graduate from law school who just wanted to get out into the real world.  
  
And now, he's with Mr. Horan who's taking a pro-bono case into court. This is what Zayn's always wanted, but not the stress and malcontent that comes with it.  
  
Mr. Horan had introduced him with a new case their boss gave to them because who the fuck knows why they'd give them a case involving sexual assault, or it might be because Mr. Horan is forced to do this for Rachel Norton. Yeah, that's the Norton. Something about looking good in the public and that Mr. Horan needs to show that he cares more than he doesn't now. Nothing colder went through Zayn's veins than reading the request from the parents whose daughter was sexually assaulted. A public defender to be, can't handle a case with sexual assault.  
  
“Are there any questions before we move on?” He asks. The room is quiet, but the humming that lies beneath the walls haunt Zayn's head.  
  
No answers, but it doesn't mean Zayn has one. Just like him, everyone’s worried to talk.  
  
The evidence report was not going to be given to them any time soon. The police lab has it, then they'll take days before Zayn and the team would have something to work with. For now, he is only working with what the parents are telling him.  
  
There wasn't much coming from them. Shock is still clearly on their faces. The mother was able to speak a little but no more than her explaining that she was out for the night. The father had nothing to say but grieve solemnly and utter curses to whomever sexually assaulted his daughter. As for the daughter herself, her statements are too vague for them to use to complete this puzzle.  
  
“Explicitly, your daughter is under the age of legal alcohol consumption.” Niall explains. “However, being under the influence of alcohol does not allow the actions of Tyler Morgan to pursue—”  
  
And there's a sudden second of sobbing that Niall has to stop and take consideration in.  
  
“Jasmine, you said you weren't feeling right that night after you had that one drink.” Niall shifts his attention to their daughter.  
  
“Y-yeah,” She answers quietly. “I had only drunk one beer. And when I tried to finish my second one, after the first few sips, I couldn't take it. I felt numb and tired.”  
  
“Even though evidence is still being processed in the time being, we would need you to do a drug test to verify that you have been under the influence.” Zayn pulls out a sheet for them to sign.  
  
And then the sobbing from her mother instantly broke out into bawling. The daughter herself had tears rolling down her cheeks while she comforted her mother. Zayn hated the twist in his stomach having to sit and listen to this case and do nothing until they're at court.  
  
“Mr. And Mrs. Adam, Jasmine—” Zayn exhales and Niall's shooting him a look that he's ignoring with every nerve in his body. “Why don't you guys go home and get some rest? These things are heavy to talk about, and it would be better if everyone comes back on Wednesday.”  
  
He himself, needs some.  
  
On the other hand of negativity, Mr. Horan did not approve of dismissing the family so easily, though he kept his inner protests when they notice how the father was able to speak to his wife and daughter once they left the room. There is an anvil hanging on everyone's shoulder in here.  
  
“Tell me if I haven't mentioned this to you,” Mr. Horan fixes his papers. “You cannot show any sympathy towards to any of our clients.”  
  
The funny thing is, he has mentioned it before. Can he train himself not to? Well, he's not a robot.  
  
“Their daughter was sexually assaulted, sir. You can't expect them to say something if they're in shock like that.” Zayn pulls himself up from his chair.  
  
“I don't care!” Mr. Horan drops the files on his table. “Ugh, you idiot. You need them to. Now you've sent them home, and we're delayed with a two day wait.” His boss combs his hair back from his face.  
  
“Sir, I know you don't play empathetic with your clients but don't you think it would help? So that you clients would open up more.” Zayn is clutching his papers to his chest. He might have to print a new copy when he feels a strong dent as he hold them.  
  
“Not when you're pushed back two days.” Niall exhales with his fingers rubbing at his temple. “It doesn't help the fact that this case is going to be taken up next week, and we have nothing but her statement. What we need is evidence.”  
  
“Sorry.” Zayn grumbles, tucking his fingers under his folder. Apparently emotions don't exist around here.  
  
When he gets home, he's greeted by some pup sitting by his shoes. He's too scared to take a step. This dog isn't even his or Harry's.  
  
When Harry calls Crash, the puppy is bounding to Harry. That's when Zayn starts kicking his shoes off and puts it over the shoe rack, and heads right into his room without saying a word to Harry. Not even acknowledging the presence of the puppy.  
  
“Crash,” Harry carries the pup by its back, the stomach facing towards the ceiling. Zayn is on his bed turned over on his stomach, looking over his shoulder when he hears Harry. “Ask Zayn what's wrong.”  
  
“Whose is that?”  
  
“Jess'.”  
  
“Um.” Zayn grimaces. “Okay?” Because the last time he checked, Harry wanted to avoid her.  
  
“We've been talking. She's really cool now. She remembers I work at the gelato shop so she stops by all the time. Like you used to.”  
  
“I have no time these days.” Zayn says. “But that doesn't explain the dog.”  
  
“Jess has this friend living with her from San Diego for a few days and she's apparently allergic so she can't have it there until the end of the week.” Harry coos to the dog before placing it beside Zayn's head.  
  
It lies down with his paws in front, resting its head on its arm. Never did he encounter such a well-behaved dog.  
  
“Work tiring you out?” Harry stands over Zayn's bed as he massages the puppy's head.  
  
“No. Just sad.” He admits, massaging down the dog's back, hearing a little bark when his head perks up. “My case involves a situation where—assault takes part. And—my boss says I've delayed our case by two days for sending them home to clear their heads.”  
  
“That's awfully nice.” Harry compliments.  
  
“I don't think I'm allowed to be.” Zayn makes a face. “At least at work. I'm not supposed to show sympathy towards clients. And I did today. I think my boss is mad, though that's not my point. I could really do it if he wants to, but what if I'm never nice again?”  
  
“You're exaggerating!” Harry laughs. “Screw what your boss thinks.”  
  
“I can't. I work with him every day.”  
  
“So screw him.”  
  
“No! Ew!” Zayn's face contorts.  
  
“You weren't saying ew months ago.”  
  
“Oh, let that go. What'd you make for dinner?”  
  
Harry pauses for a while before nodding his head. “I made money today so we could go out and buy some. How about Lasvazza?”  
  
“Whatever.” Zayn agrees. Harry is paying nonetheless. And it's only a block away. “What do we do with Crash?”  
  
“Take him along.” Harry shakes his head at the observing puppy.  
  
And so they do – bearing the cold, gale through the air as they sit outside the patio. It's an amazing sunset, though it's messing Zayn's hair. Harry was smart and had his hair up. Meanwhile, Crash keeps going between their feet. It isn't that Zayn minds – but he is trying to eat.  
  
“I need a favour,” Harry states when he wipes the corner of his lips. “You'll hate me but I need you to keep Niall away from Jess.”  
  
“I hate you already.” Zayn drones, unimpressed as he scans the menu.  
  
“Hear me out!” Harry waves his hand. “I have needs. And—”  
  
“Yes, you're tired of jackin' yourself off so you want me to leave the place to you guys or keep Niall away from Jess and the place.” Zayn uses his hands as balancers.  
  
“I'm nice so you can make this choice.”  
  
“I say, you go to Jess' because—”  
  
“Shit! Don't want to ruin your mood, but... Jess' friend is still staying so I gotta have you out our place.”  
  
“You just love to ruin everything.” Zayn groans, slouching back in his seat.  
  
-  
  
In the office, Zayn starts on his paperwork. His current pre-bono case has been postponed and Mr. Horan wants him to read up on a few contracts and agreements for faulty lines and sections for his clients because he doesn't have the time to do it himself. Zayn thinks he's just lying about that, and just wants to lay out work for Zayn because he's fucked them up by sending the family who have answers home. If anyone asks Zayn, he'll swear Mr. Horan has got this personal vendetta against him for it.  
  
Zayn does more of a scan than a thorough reading like Mr. Horan wants. Does Mr. Horan think Zayn is going to spend all his time today reading pointless documents Mr. Horan is supposed to be reading himself? There are far more important things to be working on, such as preparing for the assault case Mr. Horan is supposed to represent.  
  
It's not fair – Zayn is supposed to be helping out. His boss knows this himself. So either he has excluded Zayn after all or he's completely neglected his duties for this upcoming case.  
  
He groans in the back of his throat, leaning forward on his desk until his face feels the cool of the table.  
  
Suddenly, he's flinching up when his phone rings. He's told to wait one ring before answering or glitches will happen. He doesn't understand, but he lets it ring twice before picking up his phone.  
  
“Zayn Malik here,” he pauses. He really hates saying his full name. But no! It's formal and professional!  
  
He hears snickering on the end of the line before Harry's ultimately cracking up through the phone. He looks over his shoulder, wondering if anyone is watching. He turns back when the view is clear.  
  
“You can't call me on this line!” Zayn hisses. “This line is completely exclusive to future clients and my co-workers who need to pass on a message.” He hasn't gotten a client in the last few months working here. At his age, it's hard. They say Niall landed a client when he was only 25. How much older is he from Zayn?  
  
“I am a client. I want an appointment with Niall to sue you for being too busy for me.” Harry quips. This is frightening to Zayn when Harry sounds very convincing about that plan.  
  
“I'm sorry!” Zayn hisses again. He can't be bothered to be heard by these people. “Harry, I'm terribly busy and—”  
  
“Did you talk to Niall yet?” Harry asks brash and straightforward.  
  
“Stop saying his first name! And no, I haven't. We're both very busy people with things to do and I should be doing my things!”  
  
“Don't come home if you haven't talked with him yet. Peace!” Harry hung up on Zayn before he could protest and argue about that idea.  
  
God, now he has two things biting him in the ass. But one relies on his job so he starts to read the contract again.  
  
Except, he lost where he was and now has to start back to the top.  
  
This is going to be a long day.  
  
–

-  
  
He can't feel his eyes anymore. There's no way that's possible but Zayn had made the impossible, realistically true. He's been blinking at the same word for three minutes, and it's not the first time in the two hours he's been reading.  
  
He has three piles. The left pile has about three contracts and agreements, indicating that Zayn is still coming to it. The middle pile only has four which indicates that they've been read and Mr. Horan is expecting for it all to be finished and handed back an hour prior to his break.  
  
Why an hour prior before he goes home? So Mr. Horan could call him back for any mistakes; intervening his time to go home, making it impossible for him to go home, and have him work later.  
  
While the right pile which is supposed to exist, is supposed to have the papers with a bad section Mr. Horan can't sign. Zayn knows there's about two, but he's put them all in the middle pile and he doesn't know which.  
  
It's all in the wild guess when Zayn pulls out the Lot 47 and trading agreement between Symco and Kleinberg files and puts them to his right. He sets his current paper, Proposition Merger between BMO and RBC on the middle pile and relaxes back in his seat. He exhales loud as possible, knowing he won't get another chance to let a breath out – not for a long while if he jumps back into his reading.  
  
His phone rings again, and he waits for the first ring to pass until he picks it up.  
  
“Zayn Malik here...” His voice is more sluggish and monotone.  
  
“Mr. Horan would like to see you in his office in two minutes.” Well, what do you know? Niall's assistant, Rebecca is on the line.  
  
Zayn knows that she and Niall are close with each other. More than good friends, more than a married couple to be exact. She's the one Zayn saw at his interview. Zayn doesn't wanna be the guy who thinks of himself, but I bet she likes him too – a far second from Niall.  
  
“Excuse me? _Hellooo_?” She implores when Zayn makes a guttural disgusted noise as he looks back four months ago with her.  
  
“I'll be there.” He grumbles. “Thank you, Rebecca.”  
  
He brings the files, knowing that is what Mr. Horan is calling him to his office for. He'll be disappointed to see he's got remaining files, and there's probably nothing Zayn can do but fake his guilt.  
  
Harry's words play in his mind – a broken record that keeps going on and on. Zayn wants to go home, so asking Niall out on Friday would give him that.  
  
Asking out your boss to a friendly date should be illegal in many ways, especially for Zayn. How's he supposed to ask Mr. Horan out, just admit Jess and Harry want to sleep together and he can't be home while they do?  
  
That might just work if Mr. Horan wasn't so inscrutable.  
  
He knocks on his door before daring himself to take a step inside where Mr. Horan is, sitting at his desk, already waiting for Zayn to drop off the documents of agreements and contracts.  
  
“Thank you, Mr. Malik.” He sighs, counting the documents handed back.  
  
“Um... Before I go, is there any chance for us to talk—so to say, if you're not preoccupied with some sorts and have the time to...?”  
  
Niall looks at him with a serious amount of suspicion that Zayn feels the need to turn himself in for nothing. “On what account?” He says slowly.  
  
“Personal affairs that regard the both of us.” Zayn swallows his nervousness down when Mr. Horan's eyebrow quirks up. He must think Zayn is out of his mind.  
  
“Shut the door before you continue.” Mr. Horan leans back against his chair, making a creaking noise before he settles in his spot. “This couldn't wait?”  
  
“I'm leaving in an hour.” Zayn pushes the door close. He sits in front of Mr. Horan's desk, keeping his posture up. Frankly right now, he has got no clue whether to refer to him as his first name or keep it on last name bases.  
  
“Why is it so urgent that you have to bring it up?”  
  
“It's not urgent. It's just something I need to speak to you about before I go home, and before the week ends.” His hands are starting to clam up as he grips the end of the leather armrest.  
  
“I'm listening.” He says as he lounges in his seat – legs spread open with his sights on the ceiling. Zayn tries to avert his eyes from his boss as much as possible. Today wasn't a suit day. Today was a vest day.  
  
“I am not asking you in the intentions of making our relationship platonic nor sexual by any means, but I was wondering if you'd spend an hour or few with me doing something on Friday.”  
  
“Zayn, I specifically talked to you about this already.”  
  
“It's for Jess and Harry. They want me out the apartment and Jess would probably want you to take the dog out.”  
  
“They're talking?” Mr. Horan hisses. Is it safe to call him by his first name right now? No, never mind. That's not important to Zayn.  
  
“Been talking.” Zayn says in a matter-of-fact way.  
  
His boss lifts a brow. “And so what if I say yes?” His fruity tone is waking; forcing Zayn to straighten his posture back to what he had in the beginning.  
  
“Then that's good?” Zayn's unsure of it himself. Harry said, as long as they're out together and away from him and Jess – anything is acceptable.  
  
Mr. Horan is skeptical. From what Zayn can read, he's not too happy about it. His eyebrows are pushed in, the blue of his eyes have suddenly darkened – the contemplation is bleeding out of him.  
  
“Suppose this goes,” Mr. Horan has got his negotiating tactic on. He tilts his head with a stern look in his face. His voice is slick and deceitful; tempting Zayn to detail everything out until he's out of his mind and mixing things up. That's how Mr. Horan does it; let the words flow out of your mouth – confident but uncertain. That way, the person being negotiated with is thinking everything through. From top to bottom, inside out – their heads would whirl with a new answer. The one that his boss would like.  
  
“What's going to happen afterwards?” Mr. Horan tilts his head back, showing that maddening lascivious look Zayn can't react to. He can't change face; he has to stay stern and unreadable to his boss.  
  
But Zayn's one step ahead. “Then Harry and Jess may or may not start to date again.”  
  
Mr. Horan lifts a brow but still stays unchanged – “Alright then.” He leans off the desk, flicking his finger out at Zayn. That's the signal to leave. He can't wait to leave.  
  
“7 o'clock.” Mr. Horan leans back in his seat and Zayn's out the door.  
  
-  
  
It felt weird to Zayn seeing Niall in clothes that weren't formal. Yet, the whole casual look with a t-shirt and jeans actually fit his persona. Zayn has no idea what his persona is; too afraid to even think about it without having the idea of Niall appearing in his mind and yelling at him for it. Not only that, he has to call him by his first name. Nothing weirder about it.  
  
Niall doesn't really say much, so it gets Zayn not to say anything at all either. During the night, they stay quiet, hard in a pub with so many of the people talking and having fun. Bringing a third party would've been a great idea. They'd be forced to talk and socialize.  
  
Niall has had about four pints. Zayn hasn't got a clue on what his tolerance is, but he seems to be interested in his sixth when he finishes his fifth. Zayn stays with about four, not being a big fan and all for beer. He'd go for hard liquor, especially how their night is going like this.  
  
Even mildly drunk, it's still too hard to have a conversation about anything. Zayn's afraid of plenty of things; obligations from Niall to speak in a professional fashion outside work, being too casual and unmannerly, and that their conversations would lead them to the topic of work which will bring Zayn's first fear from the list.  
  
Zayn understands he's a great guy and all, if he wasn't his boss. Everything lies upon Zayn not to screw about with him.  
  
“Do you want a drink?” Some guy asks Zayn from his booth, having a few of his friends stare and a laugh amongst themselves. Two whistle, having the guy talking subtly about them.  
  
“I have one.” Zayn gives a taut grin, raising his hand just a bit for them to see the bottle in his hand.  
  
“Maybe you haven't drunk enough, lookin' so dead and tired in a place like this.”  
  
“I'm not interested.” Zayn lays it down  
  
“Drink yourself a few more rounds then let’s talk.”  
  
Zayn ignores the last part, tilts back his glass until the bottom is clear. He hears more whistling and cheering from the booth he hope would stop soon. Suddenly, a voice calls out, shouting hey, so he looks around until Niall's looking at him, not too far from where he's standing.  
  
Zayn can't make out Niall's reason the acknowledged his existence after an hour but he's glad he's getting it. He juts his chin, too afraid to say anything but brave enough to respond.  
  
“Do you want to get out of here?” Niall asks, giving the booth a quick side eye before he's staring back at Zayn.  
  
He nods, putting his bottle on the booth's table. He walks past Niall, eager to leave this fucked up atmosphere. He runs his hand through his hair, feeling the sweat in his roots and the burning flush of his cheeks when he's welcomed by cooler air.  
  
He hears Niall apologizing for no reason, just nods his head and lets him because there would be no reason for Zayn to open his mouth and ruin a night that's already been ruined for him.  
  
They go back to Niall's place, and Zayn gets flashes of memories three months ago when he last came here. The whole place is empty. No one but Niall and his hobby of proper interior decorating skills is here. It's all so high maintenance.  
  
Niall offers Zayn a choice between coffee or tea, and finds himself denying both but to just have nothing while he sits on the couch. Niall gives him the remote, knowing how tense and nervous Zayn is right now about everything. He knew it since this night started.  
  
Niall disappears into the kitchen when the bubbling of hot water stops when the kettle clicks. He preps Earl Grey tea with milk and a bit of sugar, and sets the cup down on the coffee table before joining Zayn on the couch, who seems to have quite an interest in the CP24 news.  
  
“Does the news have some sort of entertainment you find enjoyable, Zayn?” Niall says his name, and Zayn turns to look. He sees Niall flushed red all over his face, gazed and low lidded eyes, seems like as if he's trying to stay awake.  
  
“What?” Zayn slurs, distracted by the mention of his name.  
  
“Do you find the news enjoyable?”  
  
“No, not really.” Zayn answers dubiously.  
  
“So why are you watching it?”  
  
“I'm not really watching at all.” Zayn hands the remote to Niall.  
  
“Any shows you like?” Niall sets the remote on his lap, flipping the channels.  
  
“I don't watch a lot of television. I usually go about my days playing music around my place. I'm not always at home though. Rarely, really. Always with my friends.” And work. Always at work  
  
“What type of music do you like?”  
  
“RnB, reggae? I'm not picky. But anything over country.”  
  
“Oh CMT! A great channel to watch.” Niall starts to press the number but Zayn reaches over his lap, blocking the sensory.  
  
“No don't. I really hate country.” Zayn groans and laughs at the same time.  
  
“I'm teasing.” Niall lets the remote rest by his side, and Zayn pulls back very quickly, realizing he laid his hand on top of Niall's lap. “I'd love if they have a reggae channel. Very in love with reggae.”  
  
“Exactly.” Zayn laughs sheepishly, straightening his shirt as he inches back. “Everyone needs reggae. Not country.”  
  
Hearing the first second of Niall's intake of a deep breath, Zayn prepares himself for what he's about to say. He could only hear it because none of them are talking at all. Everything is so quiet, even the T.V.  
  
It's weird to see Niall so laid-back like before. All this time at work with him, Zayn sees it so odd to find Niall doing the most human thing: laughing.  
  
“This is so last minute, but they're having this reggae fest at Echo Beach.” The words rush out of Niall's mouth.  
  
“Tomorrow?” That sounds quite familiar. “Yeah, I'm going to it.”  
  
“Oh shit...” Niall's voice falters, and then he shakes his head. “Sorry. I don't mean to say that.”  
  
“It's okay.”  
  
“I was going to ask if you wanted to come along, but it seems you're already going.”  
  
“I always go with my friends.” Zayn goes back to the two years they've all gone together and found themselves piss drunk at the last show. “We could all go if you want...”  
  
“A boss' employee is inviting him out... This is really sad.”  
  
“H-huh?” Zayn blurts softly, now too afraid to say anything that would offend the both of them. It's not actually his fault at all.  
  
“Sure,” Niall sighs, not wanting to sound too glum about it. “I'll tag along with you kids.”  
  
Zayn blinks as he eases back into the moment which is his boss referring to him and his friends as kids. “O-okay.” He nods, still absent. “That'll be good.”  
  
-

-  
  
Echo Beach was a bit far from where Zayn and Harry live so keeping awake is going to be their only resolution just so they could go home, especially by the water where the air is colder. Now that sucks. They already get the harbour front air seven floors high in their condo.  
  
With Harry's job at the gelato shop and Zayn who didn't have a proper job until now, they could have never afforded their place. The only way they could is because of Harry's mom who was a part of the architectural project of the harbour front condos that they're able to live there as long as they pay something. The rent cost per month is $3,000. What they're paying now can't even pay off $3,000 in six months.  
  
As for Niall, Zayn learns he's able to buy the condo. But he won't, considering how distant everyone is with him, thought that's not the main reason why. Zayn is the crossroad between the two groups, and the whole cause of why Niall is with them in the first place.  
  
His friends are too scared to talk about anything in case it gets too inappropriate that Zayn's motives would end up being questioned. So they play a game of president to light the fuel in this situation.  
  
“Um sir,” Harry murmurs to Niall. He receives a cold look as he quirks his eyebrows, making Harry hesitant to continue on. “D-do you want to play?”  
  
“Did you just refer to me as sir?” Niall's tone is cold and threatening. Leigh's hiding behind her cards, Danny is drinking down his beer, and Zayn is watching from their open kitchen, looking at the fear in everyone's eyes.  
  
“Um, mister...? I-I don't know. I'm sorry, Zayn's boss.” Harry's voice is whispering by now as he covers his mouth with his cards.  
  
“You guys do know you don't work for me?” Niall gestures at them with the lip of the beer. “You could just call me Niall. And yes, I wouldn't mind playing. Sad that you don't play with runs and bums.”  
  
“What's that?” Leigh asks, giving her hand to Niall who seems to have a skill or two in shuffling.  
  
“When a group of three people put cards down in a consecutive order, they're able to put one of any cards they have then it's a flush. Depending if it's doubles or triples.” Niall splits the deck in half, and flips the two decks down together. “As for the bum part in this—if you end with two or a joker as your last card, you are automatically bum.”  
  
“I heard of that! But no one I play with likes that rule so they don't do it. But it makes things very interesting.” Leigh nods her head, tapping the edge of the table.  
  
“Zayn, would you like to play?” Niall looks over his shoulder, not paying attention to his hand's dexterity.  
  
“N-no, sir. I'm fine.” He says, faint and gloomy. There's still that intimidation Niall brings upon him, making him weary and hesitant about everything.  
  
“Zayn, remember what I said?” Niall drones as if he's reminded Zayn about this a million times.  
  
Zayn's shakes his head as if he's vacant. “Right. Sorry... Niall.”  
  
-

-  
  
In case anyone plans to pass out, Harry brought a blanket in his backpack. He also brought another because of the chilling air and the lack of seats in the festival. In fact, they preferred sitting on the sand than standing amongst the crowd or sitting on stiff chairs.  
  
Everyone's already drank themselves to the point that they're having their own crowd party from where they at.  
  
Harry has grown the absolute courage to be dancing with himself and clapping it out while the rest of them laugh and drink even more.  
  
It was hard for Zayn to believe that he was going to have fun with his boss but if they drink just about enough rum that Niall was very happy to sneak in, they're able to think that sitting off to the side, watching Harry dance, and eating Cajun poutine from the food truck, would make this the best night ever.  
  
He was watching his boss laugh with his friends. And it wasn't long ago that he felt insulted he wasn't hanging out with people his age. But that's the funny thing—Zayn can't really figure it out. He's certainly not 30, but he isn't 21 either. It's hard to read, especially when he can be so mature and rigid at the firm and be this alive and loose.  
  
“Are you okay?” Niall laughs through the music, head turned to Zayn with this groggy look on his face.  
  
“Y-yeah. Great!” Zayn replies loud enough for Niall to dismiss.  
  
Zayn tries to not think about asking Niall's age at this time. But he knows it'd be so easy to get an answer in his state of consciousness which is completely foggy. And Zayn finishes the cup of rum, letting the strong taste melt in him. He falls to the fever of the reggae tunes, lets the pounding of the bass shake his chest, and lets the heat of the alcohol and stage lights shining towards them be his source of warmth in this night.  
  
His nod is sluggish when Harry, Danny, and Leigh bid their leave when they head to the stage. It left Zayn and Niall to guard their territory. Not that they have a problem with it. Certainly not Zayn—that's enough for him to do in his current state.  
  
He lets Niall sing his heart out, though it's quite scratchy because he's yelling but nothing that bothers Zayn not to let him do it. He seems much more alive. Better this than himself at work.  
  
Zayn has got two sides when he becomes drunk. One would commonly be at clubs and parties where he's not enjoying as much, and he'll seem to be to everyone when he yells and sings his heart out. Ironic, right? And of course, right now—Zayn is in his second side of intoxication where he'll be the calmest, yet alerting person ever when he's enjoying himself.  
  
This is reggae for Christ sake, Zayn has no intention to sing to a genre he's sure to ruin. The melody flows so smooth, and he's just in too deep with rum and the inhalation of pot to really be alive like everyone else. He'll nod his head to the jam but that's about it, and even keep the singing to a low muttering and humming.  
  
He combs his hair out of his face, observing Niall from his peripheral vision. His hand holds his shoulder arm while his other hand holds his phone, probably checking for emails. He must really take his job seriously.  
  
“Are you cold?” Zayn queries, fingers tapping to the drum beat.  
  
“It's freezing. The rum is completely out of my system if my hair is standing.” Niall slurs through his laugh, sounding like he's about to begin the stages of hiccups. “I think I need more.”  
  
“Harry brought another blanket.” Zayn tips, figures it's useless when Niall's laughing at his hint to fetch it out his bag.  
  
He leans overs Niall. He radiates of heat when his arm brushes against his when he pulls the blanket out of Harry's bag settled beside Niall. He tries not to linger any longer over Niall when he feels the warmth of his breath on his face and the soft brush of their arms hitting against each other's by accident.  
  
“Here.” Zayn grumbles, putting the blanket in Niall's lap. He blinks to erase the overplaying of their skin touching.  
  
“What do I do?” Niall stares helplessly.  
  
“Use it.” Zayn replies. Then he figures it out that it's useless to tell him that when he's staring like he's lost.  
  
A gleam in his eyes gets Zayn to feel sorry for him, so he takes the blanket in his lap, and lays it over Niall's back.  
  
“Ohh! T-that's what you want me to do!” Niall laughs, pulling the blanket over his arms.  
  
“Yes, that's what I want you to do.” Zayn laughs quietly, tucking the blanket over his shoulder.  
  
But he had never reacted to anything faster than Niall's hand touching his for the slightest moment. A second is all that it takes for Zayn to pulls his hands back to himself and breathe into his palms before pressing them on his cheeks.  
  
“At first, I didn't wanna go because it's weird for a boss to be hanging out with their employee like this.” Niall sighs, rushing his words like he's trying to fit his point under a minute. “Like you guys are young, and I'm like your boss.”  
  
“Just because you're my boss doesn't mean you're a grey haired old man. It just means you've got the power to authorize some things over me.” Zayn explains. Niall doesn't even have white hair or wrinkles at all. He looks like Zayn's age group. It's ridiculous. He wouldn't have slept with him in the club if he didn't look around 20.  
  
“Why are you so smart, Zayn?” He says breathy and shaky. “Why do you always say such smart things? What did you drink? I want some.”  
  
Zayn laughs at the last part, rubbing his eye when he feels an itch under his eye. “It's my job?”  
  
“We're allowed to say stupid things after work.” Niall starts to gesture through his words. “Like, how I hate wearing suits and those slick ass shoes. They hurt my feet and it gets too hot in the office.”  
  
“Lucky you only wear them for ten hours everyday.”  
  
“Oh, I'm very lucky.” Niall groans, and continues his venting. “I think my boss is stupid. But don't tell her that.”  
  
“I wouldn't think to approach Mrs. Norton in the first place.”  
  
Niall giggles, hiccupping before straightening himself out that his voice is hoarse and mellow. “Like this isn't even the stupidest things I have to say.”  
  
“You have all night to finish.” Zayn exhales. “What's your stupidest one? The one on the top of your head?”  
  
“Do you really wanna hear it?” Niall chuckles deep in tone, tilting his empty cup back.  
  
“Yes. I don't think I'd have another moment where my boss would say something stupid for another million years.” Zayn laughs.  
  
“Yeah, well...” Niall takes a deep breath, letting it out in a slow blow. He takes a glance to see if Zayn would be staring at him and waiting for his answer but his eyes are set on the stage. That doesn't mean Niall is turning his head away, but training his eyes down from Zayn's eyes to a place that shouldn't be on his sight. “I still think about that time—where I kissed you before you left my place, and wonder, if I would ever be able to do something like that ever again.”  
  
Zayn's chest probably sank at that moment, not used to hearing a voice say anything so hoarse and quiet with those kinds of words escaping his mouth. Not even leaving—escaping. Niall wouldn't say such things to him at work. He'd be lying if he doesn't say he feels weak and overwhelmed right now. He's at a loss for words, and he can't even look at Niall without him staring from the side of his eyes, tilting his head at a slight angle so he could get a full glance at Niall.  
  
“That's the stupidest I can get, Zayn.” Niall mutters quietly and shallow. His lips are close to Zayn's ear. “Don't let me be the only one.”  
  
“N-Niall... L-let's talk later.” Zayn murmurs back when he notices all three of them are coming back, everyone jumpy and hyper.  
  
Zayn fakes a smile, and Niall is tonguing his teeth before swallowing down this moment.  
  
No one thought anything through in the night.  
  
-  
  
The next few days have become more than just hell—it's space. Despite all it's beauty, Zayn can't find himself to breath anymore in the office without thinking there's going to be an upcoming argument between him and Mr. Horan for all the slack he's been putting in the case. He can't go to work without thinking he'll be there, ready to claw his face off for not getting his contract typed out yet on their main case.  
  
He shouldn't be worried at all—not when Mr. Horan hasn't come to work at all for three days now.  
  
Some say he's sick with a stomach flu going around that Omar Abas started. The others, who don't say that, say he's sick and tired of Ms. Norton. Then there's Zayn who says that he's avoiding him after Saturday. And no one entirely knows what the real story is.  
  
Nothing would be the same if he came back. No one would know that feeling but Zayn.  
  
He busies himself with some work; typing out the contract, and the warrant the police are asking to fax for their investigation. There still isn't enough evidence to justify the family right—none that the court would accept, and none Mr. Horan can work with to represent.  
  
And it's hard, if he's not here working it out.  
  
Coming home to dinner doesn't even liven Zayn's spirit up today. Just Crash, who happens to be back with Jess could've at least gotten Zayn to crack a grin. He gets into his room, hanging his jacket in his closet before he closes it and works on his buttons.  
  
Harry is by his door, waiting for the right time to say something as they stare at each other. Zayn works on his cuffs, waiting for Harry to make the first move.  
  
“Dinner is in—” Harry finally peeps.  
  
“Day three.” Zayn suddenly blurts out, pulling his arms out of his sleeve before he throws it down in the hamper. “Day fucking three, Harry! As if it's my fault!”  
  
“We should talk over dinner.” Harry grumbles nervously.  
  
“What's dinner?” Zayn presses.  
  
“Um, Thai curry?”  
  
“Good! I'm fucking starving.” Zayn darts pass Harry, only wearing his trousers.  
  
“Or you mean, 'good! I need to talk shit about Niall.'“ Harry follows behind, walking past Zayn when he heads into the kitchen to turn off the stove.  
  
“I don't fucking care! He's Mr. Horan now!” Zayn growls afterwards, putting their plates down.  
  
“That's not right.” Harry smirks as he shakes his head.  
  
See, what had happened after the festival was nothing big.  
  
Zayn offered to walk home with Niall to his place, in case his boss never ends up home, which is just terrible for everyone. He was just 10 minutes away from Echo Beach so it wasn't a hassle. Everyone else went back to Zayn and Harry's place without them. Niall rushed to go home after humiliating himself in front of Zayn. Good thing was Zayn didn't make it as a huge deal, even if his boss did.  
  
And eventually, they were supposed to have the talk. Of course, with Zayn's mood now—they won't. That night, he got a door shut in his face, and walked home from Lake Shore to Harbour Front since the subways were closed and his wallet was in Harry's bag where his bus pass and money would be there too.  
  
He can't believe he got a door shut in his face, and for what? They have to talk about it eventually, and Niall has just prolonged the inevitable. Much comes to worse when they hold everything off, it becomes a volcano inside of their minds and all hell will come out if tampered with.  
  
“He's going to eventually come to work. Then you guys will talk there, do a small bang bang, and things will be good again.”  
  
“No, I know him. He'll come to work, do work, and talk work.” Zayn scoffs, taking a fork full of curry and rice. “And the only thrusting he'll ever do would be to give me more work until I'm stressed the fuck out.”  
  
“Screwed up analogy, considering I don't wanna have the thought of files being shoved up your ass but it works.” Harry shrugs his shoulder, holding his fork in the air.  
  
“I really hate you.” Zayn's tongue rubs his teeth.  
  
“But wasn't I right all along?” Harry's left shoulder quirks before he's holding his hands up by his shoulders. “Believe me, if you kissed him on the spot, we would have left to give you some space.”  
  
“That's bad. I don't need space and I don't want to kiss him. That's crazy.” Zayn takes a sip of water before putting his glass down. “I just don't want him to feel bad about it because I'll feel like absolute shit at work.”  
  
“Maybe, you don't want him to feel bad because you too, think back to the time that he fucked you.” Harry taps his temple. “I'm your subconscious, Zayn. I know everything.”  
  
“Then you know I won't be washing dishes tonight.” Zayn puts his plate by Harry's before kissing his cheek. “Dinner was great. I'm off to bed.”  
  
“Dick.” Harry sighs, confiding to dinner alone.  
  
-

-  
  


Zayn hears that Mr. Horan is back when he's in their break room, prepping tea. He takes an apple from the bowl—red delicious because that is only the apple Zayn will ever eat. He washes it over the sink, and takes a bite. He hears them whispering as he waits for his teabag to seep well into the hot water, trying not to pay any attention to anything relevant to his boss.  
  
He's still mad. Through the four days since the reggae festival, he's been harbouring it all in. Everyone believes he's working hard for the employee of the month bonus which is stupid because all Zayn wants to do is get through his day without seeing Mr. Horan, not hearing about Mr. Horan, and not thinking about him. So he doesn't divulge anything to his co-workers, lets them think he's working hard for this bonus. Besides, a chance for the two hundred dollar bonus wouldn't hurt.  
  
His phone rings, letting it go off two times before picking it up and introducing his name.  
  
“Mr. Horan wants a double double coffee.” Rebecca sighs, but unsure of her words just like Zayn.  
  
“That's not my job.” He replies, grimacing. “I'm not here to make coffee for him.”  
  
“I know that. But he wants me to tell you to make his coffee. I can't do anything.”  
  
Zayn's expression twists in disgust. “Fine. He'll get his coffee in five minutes. How about you?”  
  
“Caramel Brûlée.”  
  
“I'll be there in ten minutes.” Zayn hangs up before he could release an agonizing groan his neighbour doesn't pretend to not hear.  
  
He gets Mr. Horan's coffee prepared and Rebecca's cappuccino, taking less than ten minutes he expected at the beginning. Seven minutes after, he's holding a mug in one hand while his other holds the cappuccino when he arrives to Rebecca's table, dropping off her drink but not Mr. Horan's coffee.  
  
“What do you mean I have to personally give it to him?” Zayn quips, hand clenching the handle that his knuckles are burning white.  
  
“Uh, knock on his door; put the coffee on his table, then leave.” Rebecca scoffs.  
  
It just so happens Zayn becomes his assistant, not by choice.  
  
It's not one day, it's not even two days, but a whole entire week Mr. Horan has him running for coffee and lunch. Zayn drops it off personally like the first time, expecting a talk between them to happen or a simple show of appreciation for running his ass for favours he wasn't hired to do in the first place. He's doing it as best as he can, trying not to complain about his wallet being empty at the end of the day, but he's trying, for his boss.  
  
Zayn is here to work—not impress his boss by making Cuban coffee and choosing the best places for lunch other than Leigh's restaurant. He's here to show what he's worked to be for his entire life and everything lies in Mr. Horan's hands. He holds Zayn's life—a fact Zayn doesn't want to accept. With just one declaration and a pen signature, he could end Zayn's career here and now. And Zayn knows it's because he's striving to fulfill what he wants without faults.  
  
Zayn's anger towards Mr. Horan isn't as severe as it was a week ago. All the complaining Mr. Horan does, Zayn doesn't let it fly by, even though he should.  
  
“Why is my mug broken?” Mr. Horan glowers at Zayn, thumbing the chip on the handle.  
  
“Because it's dainty. Why else, sir?” Zayn raises his eyebrows, testing Mr. Horan. “Would you like me to buy you a mug, world's greatest boss? Or should I make it by hand, since you just love keeping me busy?”  
  
“It was a question, smart ass.” He scoffs, forcing Zayn to snort his laugh. “Don't get logical with me.”  
  
“Does your coffee taste funny?” Zayn tilts his head. “'Cause if it does, I could just make you a new one. Add more cream into it.” He suggests through his eyebrows.  
  
“Is that why it tastes bitter?” Niall smacks his tongue. “Get back to work. Or I'll give you more plenty to do.”  
  
It's become a routine for Zayn to work around with while he's working on their case. A shit ass routine he always has to just look forward to. It brings him all the joy in the day, not wanting to admit it.  
  
It makes everything lenient between them, but Zayn has never forgotten what he said that night. He can't forget it at all. They need to talk about it. This isn't some moment they can easily let go.  
  
One day, Mr. Horan just happened to be wearing this really slick, all-black suit. In their meeting, he was just walking around, talking about something that's apparently new  that could lift the company name even higher. Zayn can't remember most of it but it's something to do with a company merger initiating in UK. All he could focus on were Niall's shoulders and brazen tone when he was speaking to their team. One thing led to another, Zayn skipped dinner and went to his room to think his day through, and didn't notice his hand in his boxers until he felt his fingers wet at the tip.  
  
Zayn can't even look him in the eye anymore when he drops off his coffee or lunch. On the other hand, Mr. Horan continued to bash on Zayn until Zayn would nod and leave immediately right afterwards.  
  
He gets a phone call—a high possibility that it's Rebecca because she's always calling on behalf of Mr. Horan who just has a request every fucking three hours.  
  
“What'll it be?” Zayn exhales, tapping his pen.  
  
“Mr. Horan is calling you up for an interview.”  
  
Oh, that fucking interview. That very fucking interview that would determine if Zayn could stay and continue working. Or at least, think he will and Mr. Horan would totally write up some fake report to get him fired.  
  
“Let's talk.” Mr. Horan claps his hands when Zayn sits down, feeling unjustly about this interview already. “You've been selected by the board members to go to London and consult with our merger company, Fulbright. Nothing big or anything. So lucky you, you are coming with me. This merger needs to happen, so there's no room for screw up.”  
  
“Excuse me. Let's wait for a moment—me and you? A weekend in London?” Much to his relief, it isn't the interview he was expecting.  
  
“Is that all you heard from what I barely touched on?” Mr. Horan scoffs. “Not even excited about London?”  
  
“Continue then!”  
  
“We're leaving tomorrow. A ride will be accommodated for you at 4 AM for the 7AM flight at Pearson.”  
  
When Zayn makes an understanding, he straightens out his tie when he sits up. “Is there anything else?” Zayn blinks slowly, muttering a tone of disinterestedness.  
  
It's noticeable for Mr. Horan to wince an eye at Zayn. It's uncomfortably quiet between them, knowing there are things to be said. Instead, Niall shakes his head, ordering him to go off—not even tell.  
  
The only thing Zayn can do is obey.  
  
It's two nights in three days down at London, but Zayn prepared a light luggage—bringing one pair of jeans for his casual look, a long sleeve, vest shirt and an undershirt, shorts for the gym that he may never get to, and sweats for bed. It's as light as he can go for one carry-on.  
  
Waking up at 3AM never happened with Zayn. Sometimes, this would be the time he'd be coming from clubbing. He's far from being awake, but he has to get ready anyway. It's terrible because he's forced to wear his suit to London, wear it for their consultation, and he's unsure if he wants to wear it back home or let it wrinkle in his carry on. Instead, he has a better idea. He takes off the jacket, and wears just the shirt and tie as a resolution not to bring a jacket on the plane where it gets hot.  
  
He doesn't even care that his tie isn't on right.  
  
He lets it swing on his neck when he walks down the steps to the limo waiting outside. Greeted by the driver, his stuff is taken into the trunk. But when he opens the door with Niall beside him, half-asleep—he feels even worse.  
  
Niall's also wearing his work clothes. Unlike Zayn, he's wearing a jacket just like he does sometimes to work. It's a sleek navy blue suit with a white undershirt. Outfit looking really planned out, Zayn keeps that to himself. Yet, he looks good for someone who woke up at 3AM.  
  
When they fly from Detroit, it's a first-class business flight and Zayn's greeted with white grape champagne. Their snack is little hors d'oeuvres and it's crazy different from the coach class. If it's not his mind going hyper, he's lying on a bed and not an actual seat. The air is better, the lighting is better, and in literal terms—everything is just so much better on a first class flight.  
  
Their flight is long; it's to London, but sitting with Niall on the other side of his seat would definitely set the trigger between them to go off. Only because Zayn can get so irritated on a flight.  
  
“Ew.” Mr. Horan blurts when he sets his cup of coffee down.  
  
“What?” Zayn asks deep in tone, not wanting to fuel his complaints and not to sound interested either. They're not really sitting beside each other when they're in their own pods but Zayn can still go with the fact that they're going to UK 'beside' each other.  
  
“Coffee's shit.” He exhales. Zayn doesn't want to laugh but he does anyway and his boss joins in too. “I can't ask you to go in there and make me one, can I?”  
  
“This is an eight-hour flight. I think you'll live.” Zayn drones. Now that he thinks about it, eight hours on a plane with coffee probably isn't the best plan. “I'll be back.”  
  
When he heads in, it's not even a closet bathroom anymore. He can actually walk in, and walk around, wash his hands and not be so claustrophobic at the same time.  
  
Two hours into the flight, he already feels off. He hasn't flown on an airplane since he came here from UK. All he can say it's a big upgrade from normal-class.  
  
He washes his face, feels the stubbles coming thicker already when he just shaved yesterday. Zayn likes growing it out from time to time. Except, when he wears suits, he doesn't like how he looks. But hell, he knows he looks good anyway.  
  
Opening the door, he looks up to see Mr. Horan waiting; stare getting bright when he opens the door. Zayn gives a taut grin and nothing else but his attention towards him when they become static.  
  
They're at the same eye level. Everything is catching behind them now. Zayn can't seem to feel weightless looking at him. There's a sudden atmosphere he brings for Zayn to breathe so tight and closed because if he breathes any freer, his breath would be ghosting over Niall. Faint from the space between them, yet still there. Zayn isn't sure if he's allowed to, is the thing.  
  
He doesn't know what he's really supposed to call him now, but he sticks to his professional name so boundaries aren't being broken. The last time he called him by his first name, he confessed a secret Zayn doesn't think he wanted to say and then the door shut in his face.  
  
Then everything just happens so fast, but not fast enough for Zayn to not to do anything about Niall leaning in against him—his lip licked before Niall slipped his two between Zayn's bottom lip. It was a quick kiss to throw Zayn off. Still, he felt this shiver down his spine when Niall kissed him, knees keeping all of its will to hold him up. He pulls back when he gets a hold of what's happening, taking a deep, sharp inhale before he's letting the air hiss out from his nose. His open mouth wanting to say something, but then the next thing he knows he's back in the bathroom, the one pulling Niall in and locking the door.  
  
He takes another breather, trying to see what happened in those few seconds that got them to do so much. Niall is leaned against the sink, holding the edge of the counter with his head cocked to the side. Zayn knows he's waiting, yet everything feels too hot and quick to him to register and put the pieces together right now. He doesn't leave. He should know that he isn't going to when he locked the door.  
  
And he's taking Niall's face in his hands, pushing their mouths together. There's a faint hint of coffee and cinnamon gum in his mouth when is licks his lips before feeling Niall's tongue flick against his. Niall's moaning gets Zayn to force his mouth even harder, making it harder for Niall to breathe. But he's trying, the sound of the sharp air when he inhales between their lips closed against each other.  
  
“Zayn.” Niall lets his name slip out with a blow of air. His legs rub against Zayn's thigh, desperately trying for something so he takes a quick dip to look down and grab the back of his knee and pull Niall's leg up against his hip. By this time, Zayn's forgotten that this is his boss.  
  
Niall's rut grinding makes Zayn restless, so he tries to press his hip against Niall even harder and eventually, Niall's head is lolled back against the mirror with his mouth exhaling crazy. Zayn uses his one free hand to rip a button open from his shirt before kissing his Adam’s apple that makes a quick bob when he feels Niall swallow. Licking a fat stripe over his pulse, he starts to mouth on a spot just as Niall's hand grips into his hair. He tugs and pushes Zayn's face deeper into his neck, gasping when Zayn's teeth drag against his skin.  
  
Niall's nails drag down Zayn's shirt for barely an amount of time before he's pressing his fingers between their hips, trying to feel for Zayn through his pants, making sure that it isn't just his imagination or dream that there's this really thick and stiff thing pressing against his as well.  
  
“ _Ohh_ fuck,” Niall moans, fingers running over his groin for the button of his pants.  
  
“What do you want?” Zayn pulls back, taking a quick glance over Niall's bruise before looking back at his glazed eyes.  
  
“You.” Niall exhales, swallowing before nudging his lips back over Zayn's.  
  
His mind wasn't straight; it was all over the place. Everything was happening so fast—their sloppy kiss, Zayn's hands moving all over him, messing up his attire through every grip of his shirt. It opened Zayn's eyes, couldn't be more than both right and wrong.  
  
Once Zayn unzips Niall's pants, he slides down to his knees, undoing his own pants just as he begins to bob his mouth over Niall's dick, tightening the ring of his mouth when he pulls up to the head. He paces himself slow so this wouldn't end just as quick if he did. Zayn strokes his own dick, but thumbs his tip. He begins to moan at the back of his neck, muffled by Niall's dick in his mouth.  
  
He really didn't know what he was doing this for by the end when Niall came just right beside Zayn's mouth before he aimed it back in his mouth. Nonetheless, Zayn swallowed it as much as it brought him disappointment to himself realizing his stupid subconscious was right. Yet, he really didn't want Harry to be right. Or himself.  
  
He came to Niall's hand stroking him done with a bit of it smeared on both their clothes. It was satisfying to be relieved by someone else. It wasn't satisfying that it was his boss who spoke so much about not doing this. Zayn really doesn't know what this'll lead to except silent treatment to each other. At the worst time yet—they're supposed to be talking about the merger.  
  
The rest of the flight was quiet just like Zayn predicted. They didn't talk to each other which is probably the best of this moment. It was good they treat this like it never happened because it wasn't supposed to in the first place. But Zayn couldn't ignore the cum stain he left on Niall's shirt.  
  
When they landed in London, even the limo ride to their hotel was quiet. Niall kept his eyes peered out to the window while Zayn held his phone, thinking of risking the billing at the end of his month to text Harry what happened and how he feels about it in one text bubble.  
  
The hotel they arrive to, Zayn knows he's not going to be the one paying for this. It was a five star—a place Zayn would never even think to step into, despite that he lives in a condo in front of Harbour Front in which he doesn't pay for anything. This was probably the company's idea, and they must be paying for it. Not to mention, he and Mr. Horan get to have separate penthouse rooms. The downside, their room interconnects and they could open that one door that leads to each other's room if they want that moment in the airplane bathroom to happen all over again. Zayn is sure he doesn't so he tries not to think about the door too much. He just tries to dumb himself down and think the wall between would be thick when it's thin enough for Zayn to be hearing all this thudding and pounding in his room. So that postpones Zayn's self-reflection, knowing where it'd lead to in the end.  
  
When he wakes up from his nap, it's the evening, and he hadn't even gotten a proper meal since his flight. And he's saying it's proper because the first-class team has done it again to top the coach class.  
  
He hits the hotel restaurant because going out alone in London is not his first plan in anything. He'd go home to Bradford—if only time permits. It's just really melancholic to be sitting at a dim-lit restaurant with a live French band playing. Zayn doesn't want to be superficial but the accordion really makes their band.  
  
He doesn't have dinner but he finds himself knocking on Mr. Horan's door just because.  
  
“He—” Niall cuts himself off when Zayn is at his door, knocking.  
  
“Did you have dinner?” Zayn gets straight to the point. He doesn't even want to regard the way Niall is looking at him right now—as if he's out of his mind to be asking after what they did in the plane.  
  
Niall thinks for a good few seconds. He looks off to the side, then behind him, a quick glance up to the ceiling, then to the side again before closing the door behind him. The two stand there until they hear the click which could only mean, Niall said no.  
  
Zayn orders some kind of spaghetti with a thousand herbs. Though it might be an exaggeration, he can taste every bit in his mouth. Then there's his supposed companion for dinner who's drinking more liquor and gin mixes than he is eating this lamb stew with roasted peppers and fingerling potatoes. Zayn has no clue what fingerling potatoes are. He knows his plate is good through his judgement through smell.  
  
Niall ate at least one of everything in the plate—even a black peppercorn he didn't mean to eat. Yet, he choked it down, and then burned his throat even more with gin and sprite. A tough throat.  
  
“Um, if you ate already, you didn't have to come.” Zayn takes a sip of water, staring dourly. The silence is killing him, and the music is even making things worse when it makes their dinner seem romantic; as if Zayn paid for this band just to impress Niall.  
  
“I'm fine.” Niall replies, with an obvious roll of the eyes in his tone. “It's just gin.”  
  
“And it's just a silly meeting we're going to tomorrow.” Zayn pulls the glass away from Niall. He doesn't fight him, surprisingly. “You need to prepare. You can't do that drunk. Not tonight.”  
  
“I am going to be fine.” He grumbles, pressing the inner corner of his eyes.  
  
“Even the best can fall.” Zayn sighs, handing Niall his water. Though it's no help since the ice has gone all melted with the lemon wedge still stuck at the rim. “Sober up.”  
  
Hopefully. This isn't some easy process they can do in thirty minutes. They would have to fight for what they want until they win. There is no winning. They might as well not go home if they don't make this merger go the way it needs to. All Zayn is going to do is hope and hope; hope until he's ridden of hope so Niall could convince them that it'll work between them. That's really all he can do. It's Niall's territory now.  
  
They're in Niall's penthouse room—working out their strategy for tomorrow. He's busting out all he can to think of ways to approach their merger while Niall's trying his best to come up with points for them to argue against Fulbright. There's many—not so good, not so tough.  
  
The thing is Zayn knows the merger will happen nonetheless. It's good for both sides and it'll give them the power over the other firms because this merger will have at least 3,000 workers worldwide. It's just their agreement and how much Norton gets, what happens if a certain situation takes place, and who gets what. Only to think of demography and the countries' revenue, are they going to settle this.  
  
Tipsy but a working machine, Niall lists ideas for their contract while Zayn is working on their document, typing out what they see as a mutual agreement between two companies.  
  
Looking up from his laptop screen, Zayn is trying hard not to stare at Niall going through his place, wearing nothing but his Adidas sweats. He even tries to ignore the brand name of his boxers just over the edge of his sweats.  
  
“What the hell? We have drinks?” Zayn looks at Niall as if Zayn's vacant. He didn't realize high paying customers who rent out the penthouse for the weekend get free drinks stocked in their bar.  
  
“Always like this.” Niall shrugs, popping the caps with his key chain, and then he hands it over to Zayn this Jack Daniel cooler.  
  
“I wouldn't have guessed...” Zayn murmurs, tilting back the bottle to his lips. “But are you alright?” This question is more of a follow up of the one Niall brushed off at dinner.  
  
“I'm fine. Why are you asking?” Niall sinks on the bed, settling beside Zayn who's typing on his laptop. He does a few things before closing his laptop and reaching to the chair to place his laptop on. With the bed so big, it makes Niall looks so small.  
  
“You've been drinking this entire time, didn't really eat much at dinner.” Zayn responds, pushing himself up the bed. Zayn is drinking as well. As far as anything goes, a cooler doesn’t hurt anybody.  
  
“Didn't feel like eating fingerling potatoes.” Niall continues when Zayn leaves the bed and goes through the split room to brush his teeth before he comes back into the bedroom. “Why would anyone want to call potatoes, fingerlings?”  
  
“What would you rename it to?” Zayn asks, brushing his molars. His hand cups under to catch the foam.  
  
“Potato vertical cutlets.” There wasn't a pause at all to think the name through. Zayn disappears to clean the washroom to clean his mouth. Then he comes out with sweats in his hands.  
  
“That's quite a mouthful.” Zayn comes back to casually reply, unzipping his trousers before he's sliding it down with his foot. “You make me consider fingerlings.”  
  
“Tree potatoes.” Niall replies. He keeps his eyes on Zayn—not even trying to be subtle about it. Deadpan, he takes a sip of his drink until the bottom of the bottle became visible. Zayn notices how low Niall's eyes are—and still, something compels him to slip his hand in his boxers, tucking his dick to the way it feels best inside his briefs.  
  
“Oh, let me just grab a giant tree potato and make mini cutlets out of them.” Zayn laughs hard enough that he's holding the wall for support when he slips into his sleep clothes.  
  
“Ohhh,” Niall laughs for a moment when he watches Zayn climbing onto the bed. “You're trying to get me to say something stupid again.”  
  
“I swear I'm not.” Zayn snorts, patting his papers neatly so none of the pages are sticking out.  
  
“Good, good—because I don't wanna say something stupid to ruin this.” Niall hums while he sighs. “Whatever this is”  
  
Zayn lets an exhale puff out when he sits up, leaning towards Niall so he could read his expression. He really can't when his mouth is hidden over his crossed arms. He doesn't know what this is either, but he's not going to let him call it this because—it's not just a pronoun.  
  
“The only stupid thing going on is this.” Zayn states firm and stern, not holding back on letting Niall know what he wants him to know. He wanted him to know for so long already. Instead, they did things that didn't need to happen if they had talked before.  
  
“What's this?” Niall turns his body on his side with his hand holding up his head. He doesn't seem pleased but he's willing to finally talk it out after so many weeks.  
  
“Oh, this is where something happens and you ignore me before you let me say what I have to say.” Zayn quirks his eyebrow. Somehow he sees the padding of his fingertips barely touching Niall's shoulder.  
  
He rolls his eyes and nods his head. He tries to play off Zayn's lingering touch. “So what do you actually have to say?”  
  
Zayn unbends his leg to get rid of the numbing before taking a deep breath. “I think about that night as well.” The one no one seems to want to let go. “I like what we did. And it's better now that we know each other, so it's not weird at all. Even if you're my boss—I still want—” It's not until now he finds himself heavily breathing on the thoughts that makes his dick twitch. He curls his bottom lip back between his teeth before pursing them out, weakly but still noticeable. “What do you want?”  
  
Niall grimaces, staring down reflectively on a spot where his fingers are tracing the bed cover. He's heard this before in a different moment—knows this meaning is different from the other one. The thing is, he wants everything that night. And even more. It made his stomach turn talking things out on the bed, half naked, watching Zayn softly biting his lip again, fidgeting with his fingers. He can't sit still anymore.  
  
“I don't want things to change between us at work.” Niall sits up, eye level of Zayn, not stalling to the point. “You still work for me. But I can't cope if that's all you do for me. I want more. I need—you.”  
  
Zayn laughs quietly to himself when he sits closer to Niall, only because he's reaching for a page he missed. He puts it down beside him when Niall's touch on his arm is lingering on him.  
  
God, he's so touchy. Now that he's looking back to the moments when they were in the office working on cases, Niall would have his touch on him. If he was writing with a pen and Niall needed it, he wouldn't use the one in his pocket he notoriously pulls out when people need him to sign something off. His hand would be on Zayn's forearm, idle but there, waiting until Zayn let's it drop and Niall would take it afterwards. He didn't read much into it. He thought Niall's a character of impatience until now when Niall's touching him at the same place with the tip of his fingertips.  
  
Zayn's smirk is coy when he stares at Niall, holding his jaws when he nears himself against him. “And I don't really visit your office just to drop off coffee.” His teeth bite his lip when he mouths the last word exaggeratedly.  
  
Zayn is completely straddling him on his lap while Niall continues to hold himself to sit up close to Zayn, holding his face completely near against his; feels Niall's airy and shaky breath nearly between the seams of his lips.  
  
“This isn't going to be another one night stand where you leave my place and never come back, is it?” Niall's hands slide to Zayn's back, kneading the base of his spine. “Didn't think I'd ever see you again.”  
  
“I only left so I could practice for your interview.” Zayn holds Niall's shoulders, weakly thumbing his collarbone as if a feather is brushing against the hair of his skin.  
  
“That's always nice to hear.” Niall grins, thumbing Zayn's sides. Zayn's mouth parts to push against Niall, but Niall turns away when he follows with another question. “Did you finish the contract?”  
  
“Yeah,” Zayn sighs quickly, not letting a second waste to turn Niall towards him with his two fingers on his chin, and push his lips against Niall's—a soft pressured kiss to clear his mind. “Let's not think about that, yeah?” He slots his lips between Niall's, jutting his chin as he closes the seams of his lips over Niall's top lip before pulling apart. “Let's think about you and I—taking our clothes off for the night, heading off to sleep?”  
  
“Y-yes.” Niall gasps, kneading his fingers under Zayn's briefs, trying to push Zayn closer against him. “Take it off.” He exhales, pushing his mouth over Zayn's. About the sleep part—it's only 11.  
  
They cock their heads left with their mouths attached—sloppy and needy, always licking each other's mouth like they haven't done it before. Niall keeps pulling Zayn closer, even if there's no way to get closer than how they are now—torsos rubbing against each other. Zayn's making low quiet moans every time he pushes his mouth even harder over Niall's, making loud smacks of their tongues and lips pulling apart. Zayn thinks his mouth is starting to taste more of Niall than him right now.  
  
“Shit!” Zayn exhales, breaking away from Niall. He falls back on the bed, raising his hips as he eagerly pulls off his sweats and dashes it far from his reach. He takes his dick into his fist, pumping himself without any stalls. Shit, he is so restless.  
  
But Niall dashes out of his pants as well before pushing himself back against Zayn—laying on top with their hips pressing against each other, legs between Zayn's which are wide open.  
  
“I wanna ride you so fucking bad.” Zayn groans at Niall's neck, growling the last word right at his ear before mouthing at his neck—mostly it's his tongue just running flatly on his skin before he pecks at the end of the strip. “Feel you—inside—I've been waiting too long.” His hands grip on Niall's cheeks, spreading him wide for Zayn to slide his fingers in.  
  
Niall's lets fuck push out his mouth when Zayn's fingers shove inside, curling against his muscles just the way he likes and needs it to be. He's moaning with his head tilted up while Zayn kisses and sucks him on his neck.  
  
“It feels so good, Zayn.” Niall groans when he looks down, seeing their dicks rubbing against each other as well. “Just—deeper and faster.”  
  
“Fuck, don't come yet.” Zayn holds Niall's chin, running his thumb over his bottom lip. “I want it—inside.”  
  
“Do you have—” Niall grunts before continuing. “Any...” He sits up on his knees for a while, breathing quietly as Zayn's fingers curl against his muscles.  
  
“It's in my—” Zayn prompts himself up with his elbow to kiss Niall at his hip. “Fuck—it's in my fucking bag.”  
  
“So far.” Niall whines while his gape mouth exhales over Zayn's when he bends back down over him.  
  
He gets it anyway because there's no other choice, unless Niall wants it to end in disappointment. By disappointment, he thinks fucking each other with hands.  
  
When he gets back on the bed, leaning against the pillows, Zayn moves closer but not any higher. Instead, he kisses around Niall's hip before wrapping his mouth around his dick. This time, he bobs his mouth quickly—the ring of his mouth so tight Niall's hips are involuntarily pushing up from the bed. He rests on his side, propping one leg up, taking deep breaths to control himself from coming to Zayn's sucking and licking. His hips are bucking and it's almost as if Zayn's encouraging him to fuck his mouth when his hand grips Niall's waist, fingers pressing harder down on his hip when he pushes closer.  
  
“I wish we did this from the start.” Niall puffs, combing his hair back from his face then combs Zayn's hair back from his face so hair doesn't become a part of Zayn sucking him off. “Didn't think—you wanted to do this.”  
  
“Why not?” Zayn licks from his shaft up. “I like you—would do anything.”  
  
“Fuck, that's so hot.” Niall's groan extends when Zayn's hand is around his balls.  
  
“Do you like me?” Zayn croons, pushing his mouth all the way to the base, his head past his throat, causing Niall to mewl quietly and nod fervently, tears prickling the corner of his eyes.  
  
Zayn pulls away with a pouty expression on his face. Niall really doesn't know what's gotten with Zayn but he's so needy and heartfelt that he loves it. So when he notices the glum look on Zayn's face, he levels down to match their eyes together. Then he kisses him slowly, taking his face into his hand before it's making its way down to the curve of his body, loving the way his fingers tinge because of how soft his skin is.  
  
“What's wrong?” He asks, and then continues to fit his lips together with Zayn's; slow, yet with pressure. It's even more intense for Niall to have Zayn kissing him back when he's done something wrong.  
  
“You don't like me?” Zayn mutters, nudging his lips back towards Niall.  
  
“Yes, I do. I like you so much.” Niall brings Zayn's leg over his hip, hooking his arm around him. He buries his face in Zayn's neck as he tightens his arm around him, letting himself relax from their fast paced moment. He doesn't even need to determine what he means by “like me”. Yes, Niall likes him in every way—and a little more than much before.  
  
“Okay.” Zayn laughs in Niall's ear. Then he starts to whisper like the air itself. “I wanna ride you now, Niall.”  
  
It totally left his mind how much Zayn wanted to do this so he breaks from him, pushing himself back to the pillows. He holds Zayn's hand when Zayn makes his way to sit on top of him.  
  
While their mouths are over each other, Niall starts to stroke himself down with lube, then slips his fingers right inside of Zayn. He becomes uneasy again—breathing heavies as he nips at Niall's neck, quietly peeping a moan from time to time as Niall's fingers curl deep against his muscles and starts to scissor him open.  
  
His body tenses when Niall reaches something he continues to brush his fingers over. Niall knows he's reached his sweet spot with the way he's croaking quietly in his throat, rocking himself over Niall's body.  
  
“You feel nice, Zayn. Around my fingers—” Niall compliments with a soft and airy tone letting the s of the word hiss, curling his fingers back all the way, slowly thrusting it in and out of his entrance. “Quite warm and tight—even if I go—deeper.” Zayn's throat lets a deep huff when Niall rubs over his prostate again. “Trying to keep quiet?” His tone tightens at one point, croaking as well as Zayn rubs himself against Niall. “Can you kiss me?”  
  
There's no wait between the question as Zayn turns his head, licking inside of Niall's mouth already. He takes sharp inhales before he parts and licks in Niall's mouth again. And as he lets this sloppy kiss between them pass, he's pushing Niall's dick inside of him. His mouth is pressed even harder over Niall—his way of suppressing those little moans from coming out.  
  
“There we go.” Niall takes Zayn's two hands, letting them press over his chest. And he loves the way Zayn's fingers go over his nipples. “Take your time. I wanna watch.”  
  
“A-all things aside,” Zayn starts his grinding slow and stable, not wanting to move so brash just yet. With Niall's dick inside, he feels tighter ever before. “I'm not fired for breaking the rules, am I?” Or so to say, for condoning Niall to break the rules.  
  
“No, you're good.” Niall laughs, stroking Zayn's thighs and squeezing the flesh around his hip. “There are things that the others have done worse than you.”  
  
“L-like what?” Zayn huffs, pushing his hips more downward as he rotates his hips. His movements are becoming rough and quick, nearly accumulating sweat around the back of his knees and especially his ass. No, it's just wet with the friction.  
  
“One of the elevators were kind of out of service—tried to figure out what happened—a-and it was—” Niall swallows when he feels his stomach knotting. He takes a squeeze of Zayn's cheeks, pushing them even farther apart just for the sake of Zayn taking all of it. “Stopped 'cause—we saw this through the surveillance—but they were fucking in the elevator.”  
  
“F-fuck, hold on—” Zayn's head lolls back as he strokes himself. “A-almost, almost there.”  
  
Zayn is practically bouncing on Niall by now. Between a few, he grinds himself quick and fast before bouncing again with the help of Niall holding his hip down. His mouth stays agape as Zayn drops his weight on him and picks it up, his dick being fuck by the tightest ass ever.  
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” Zayn grinds viciously fast, letting his knees hold him up long enough and just at the right height to push his hips back and forth, easily – mostly focused on grinding over the head.  
  
“Fuck, you look so good.” Niall pushes his words out through his clenched throat. He holds Zayn's hip down, forcing every inch back inside to take in. The body over his is trembling—knees are shaking, but he's still going—still prodding his hips back on Niall's dick vigorously.  
  
“Ohh, oh, oh—” Zayn's face is glistening with sweat and twisted in pleasure, mouth dropping open when Niall smacks his ass, and goes a step further with his pace.  
  
“Fuck, you like my cock in you?” Niall bites his lips, digging his nails down on Zayn's skin. “You've been so patient, haven't you?”  
  
Zayn whines in a high pitch. His moans are loud and shaky, even broken at some point. He's bearing every second of this—feeling every kind of pain shoving into his body right now reaching for the spot his fingers had reaches before. He had thought about Niall on occasions when he shoved his fingers inside himself to satisfy himself.  
  
“You think of me, don't you? Ever since we fucked that night—had your thick cock in my mouth?” Niall moans for a second, lifting his hip up before he's settled back down. He's never spoken to anyone this obscene since his fourth year of University. It's disgusting, and a total eye opener. “Fucked me so good. Loved how you made me come all over myself, Zayn.” Another moan breaks out. “I had to do it myself after you left. Made me do bad things over my bed—even in the office. Got a hand around myself just thinking about you every day in your tight little suit, how I wanna tear it all off and fuck you over my desk.”  
  
“Ohhhh, I'm almost—I'm almost—ohhhhh—shit—” It's beautiful – how eager he wants to just, push his hips forward and take it all back. Maybe it's the feeling of Niall's cum leaking that's driving Zayn to ride him so wild that their king bed is rocking and creaking madly.  
  
Suddenly, Zayn tenses just as he blows out a breath, grunting as he comes over Niall's stomach, bouncing immensely to finish out the last bit he was holding back.  
  
“Oh yeah.” Zayn huffs deeply, coughing once or twice before his senses are coming back and he's listening to Niall whispering at his ear, telling him to get on his knees and hands for him – with a please at least.  
  
When Zayn positions himself the way Niall wants him to, his thighs are already burning – then the next thing happens, Zayn can't hold himself up with Niall vigorously pounding him.  
  
He holds himself up with his forearm and knees while his back curved up even more, doing his best to still for Niall. He can barely keep his mewling to himself. Clawing the bed sheet isn't enough for Zayn.  
  
“I-I'm close—just a little bit more.” Niall exhales, pressing his fingers over Zayn's hip. His pressure is hard enough for his fingers to leave marks on his skin. It'll fade by tomorrow. He pushes his dick back in; not stalling with the thrusts he pushes in against Zayn.  
  
“Just fuck me, yeah?” Zayn pushes his face down on the bed—tries to drown the noises of everything but the bed creaking, their skin to skin contact, and their eliciting breaths. Niall's immediately entering right in without any kind of caution. And it's maddening. A little heads up would have helped, and now—Zayn's trying to lift his ass higher with his knees trying to separate from one another.  
  
“Go faster, go faster—p-please just fuck me faster.” Zayn's voice shakes just when Niall thrusts himself in, leaving such a huge space between their hips. It's just fast, loud, slaps of their friction rubbing together. He squeezes his eyes shut, seeing white epileptic flashes in the dark.  
  
“Fuck! R-right there, Zayn.” Niall gasps just at the same time as Zayn moaned against the bed. He comes inside of him, fills him 'till their heaving together, sweating and panting. Zayn bites his lip throughout the few seconds Niall's still moving inside of him. He feels great – almost feels ethereal and unreal that it happened between them again. This was much better.  
  
It's only 12, and they should sleep because it won't be like this when they get back to Toronto – all work, no play. Instead, Zayn's finishing his cooler while he's got a cigarette lit up between his lips that Niall plucks from his mouth and takes an inhale from.  
  
“So back to the topic of worse things done at work—” Zayn exhales from his nose, shaking off the burn. They lounge at the divan beside the floor-to-ceiling windows just by the slide door balcony, letting the air blow inside to get rid of the smell and smoke.  “Fucking your boss isn't even top?”  
  
“Maybe top 10 but not top 5.” Niall laughs, scratching his chest. “There are some weird employees but we don't judge. Well, I try... Are you hungry?”  
  
Zayn shrugs but settles with a definite nod. “Very. You should be starving right now.”  
  
“I'm getting flashes right now.” Niall laughs, taking a step away from the window. “I'll talk to room service.”  
  
Zayn nods as Niall disappears into the living room, initiating the noises through the walls as he walks around. He relaxes over the divan, resting his head over the small arm rest with one leg up. Cigarette in one hand with a cooler in the other hand, sitting at the second highest floor by the broad window with the city just below – Zayn would fall into an attack not being able to see the roads but he got used to it, living in a condo and working at Norton in Bay Street.  
  
He really doesn't want to sleep, yet sets his eyes closed. Sleeping means going into the next day, and he's not ready for tomorrow. And when he talks about not being ready – he doesn't mean the meeting. It'll be the second of the third day here, which means this isn't going to last for a very long time.  
  
His eyes don't blink open when Niall creeps beside the divan, rubbing Zayn's shoulders. His fingers try to squeeze between the arm rest and the back of his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles as he ducks down, slotting his lips together in between Zayn's. The hand with the cigarette carefully moves up to hold a side of Niall's face, not relying on his sight so it wouldn't be his entire fault if he singes Niall's cheeks.  
  
Niall's fingers move to the side of his shoulders, sliding his hands up and down, fingers wanting to touch his skin. This is his only way for now, as he carefully matches Zayn's bottom lip with his top.  
  
“It has only been ten minutes.” Zayn mutters, jutting his chin towards Niall for their lips to touch again.  
  
“A long time for me.” Niall starts to gape his mouth bigger as he closes against Zayn's mouth. He can't seem to figure out whether he's needy to go for another round or just missing how it feels to kiss Zayn again.  
  
Niall sets the drink down from Zayn's hands, pressing his own hand over as he pulls Zayn's hand to hold his face. They part for a moment, Zayn finally opening his eyes, catching his breath as Niall carefully plucks the cigarette between his fingers and sets it down in the ash tray.  
  
“Lie down with me.” Zayn juts his mouth back over Niall's. Holding a side of Niall's face, he prompts himself up, pushing his mouth against Niall even harder as he was pulling away.  
  
He settles a knee on the divan, then lies his body between Zayn's legs. Hips aligned, he lets Zayn wrap his arms around his body while he hooks his arm under Zayn's. Their kisses lead to a fast and messy kind – mouth to mouth such as always, their tongue frequently licking around their lips before licking at the inside, not that it matters to any of them – they're back in the rush.  
  
“Oh fuck,” Zayn gasps elongated, his feet sliding on the silky cushion as Niall rotates his hips, grinding his dick over Zayn's. He leans back on the arm rest, trying to enjoy every second they're sharing together. “Don't stop.” He repeats until he's lost for words and needs more air. Niall rocks him against the divan, jutting his hips up when Niall pushes his dick over his; pressing over his like it's a weight.  
  
With the help of his foot on the floor, he gyrates his hip even more vigour, ignoring the red marks Zayn is forcing down on his shoulder blades.  
  
“Fuck!” Zayn gasps even louder and lolls his head back on the arm rest of the divan when there's a sudden fill inside of him. Not again. It's Niall who pushed his dick inside Zayn without any words of warning. It's partly slicked from up until now, Zayn's still wide open, and they're both hard again.  
  
Zayn's leg hooks around Niall's thigh as Niall rests his knee on the divan. His thrust is vigour, not wanting to waste any more time with all the nonsense that's not his dick pounding Zayn.  
  
“A-a-ah!” Zayn whines, arching his back then entire time. Niall waits to move again, pushes his mouth against Zayn who nods in between. He thrusts again until Zayn arches even more and spills over his stomach, hot and sticky like it's summer all over again.  
  
Niall gasps when he comes afterwards, pushing his dick back inside after stroking himself down. Zayn huffs deeply when he feels that warmth again, closes his eyes when he feels Niall's dick tightening against his rim. His chest lifts as he feels the warm leak of Niall's dick, feels brushing of the glistened chest roughly rubbing against him.  
  
“Zayn, you're full.” Says Niall, not believing a part of his words when he continues to fuck his cum in. He doesn't remember how Zayn ordinarily feels anymore. It's just warmer and stickier by this time, and he's not saying he doesn't like the idea of Niall's cum slicked against his muscles.  
  
“I-I know.” Zayn mewls quietly under his breath. He squeezes his eyes shut when Niall pushes his fingers in, curling around the mess inside. His fingers curl slowly and tender, not wanting to arouse Zayn again. He just wants to feel how warm it is inside—feel the slick between his fingers.  
  
“F-fuck, that's good.” Zayn breathes out when Niall pulls out. He can't even think right now—but he just finds himself swearing and licking his own lips when he notices the definition of Zayn's neck—the hollow dip, the veins, the strain of his muscles—Niall licks in his mouth, pacing his mouth slowly against Zayn.  
  
He groans quietly, weakly writhing over the divan. He bites his bottom lip, eyelids low with his head knocked back. Niall moves his mouth over Zayn's neck, jutting his chin down and it takes everything of Zayn – his body, his muscle – not to laugh so loud that he'd break Niall's ear drum. He'd rather not have anyone tickling him on that spot, but he can't stop Niall from asking him who's his boss while he smothers his face on the curve of Zayn's neck _. Of course, you ya fucking bitch_. If it isn't obvious. His stomach hurts from laughing, and even his eyes are nearly in tears. Niall won't stop and it's highly unlikely he'd ever give up the opportunity to get Zayn breathlessly cackling for him.  
  
Immediately, two knocks tap against their door. The two are so sore from all the movement – they don't want to get up. They wouldn't even mind if they didn't eat.  
  
“Shit!” Niall laughs heavily when he pulls off Zayn's neck. “Get the door.” He exhales when a knock persists on their door. He wipes the sweat off his face and pulls himself off of Zayn as he fixes his hair. His fingers pinch his torso, realizing he's got no shirt on to fix.  
  
“No way.” Zayn flicks his lighter at the end of his cigarette. He lets it settle between his lips as he fixes his hair. He reaches for his sweats – not bothering to put his boxers on. “You called them. Safe to say you open the door.”  
  
He ignores Niall's quiet complaints before he leaves the bedroom to actually fetch the door. Meanwhile, Zayn sits back on the divan – just before he brings his MacBook in front of him. Sitting cross legged, video chatting Harry puts a strained smile on his face.  
  
“You're on for what reason?” Zayn lets the smoke flow out his mouth as he questions Harry.  
  
“Because I knew you'd be calling.” Harry points to his head. “How is it?”  
  
“Penthouse.” Zayn shrugs. “Nothing big.”  
  
“You bastard.” Harry scoffs, itching the side of his nose. “You look like one too. Like you haven't showered in days. And there's—no!” Harry gasps.  
  
By the look on his face, he's shaking his head with a grimace as he taps the end of his cigarette over the ash tray. Before he could open his mouth to tell him what he means to explain to Harry, Niall's arm goes around Zayn's shoulder to take the cigarette from his fingers.  
  
“The best they can do at midnight is grilled cheese and Cajun fries.” Niall sighs and inhales from the cigarette, though he doesn't seem disappointed by those choices. He suddenly backs from Zayn when he sees Harry blinking on the screen, munching on bread. Niall's eyes are big; mouth open with nothing to say but his hand directed towards the laptop.  
  
“It's only Harry.” Zayn whispers, forgetting all about the built-in mic in his laptop that caught everything he said this moment.  
  
“Oh.” Niall's shoulders drop from the tense that just knotted in his muscles. He sits beside Zayn – or his back, so to say, so Harry wouldn't see him.  
  
He's finishing the cigarette, and he's suddenly unsure if they're allowed to be smoking. The smell doesn't linger around for long. The balcony is open, blowing the cold air in. They should be resisting this kind of air. Except, Niall can feel the sweat drying off his back from the balcony, and then on Zayn's skin when he leans against it, pressing his lips over it. He gives one soft peck on his spine, barely attention catching. But he feels Zayn straightening his posture for barely a second before he eases again.  
  
“I'll talk to you tomorrow.” Zayn grumbles to the screen as Harry waves goodbye. He slides his MacBook away before laying his head on Niall's lap. His head is smoothed by Niall's hand over his forehead – feeling like something's up when Niall touches him so. Never on a place like his forehead.  
  
“Who's Harry to you?” Niall quips quietly, pushing Zayn's hair from his face. He starts to comb through, feeling the softness of his lengthy hair.  
  
“Friend. Sometimes foe.” Zayn shrugs. “He's quite impossible.”  
  
“So it means,” Niall's voice becomes suddenly serious. Zayn catches it momentarily when Niall starts to caress his thumb over the corner of Zayn's lips. “There's nothing I have to worry about when you're at home.”  
  
The caressing of Niall's thumb moves to the stretch of Zayn's grin. There's something Zayn wants to laugh at. At the same time, he knows Niall means well. They don't know what they are as of right now, but that knowing they're okay makes Zayn feel light.  
  
Zayn shakes his head while he beams. Rather he smiles than laugh. “No, but you should think of me instead.”  
  
“I know you're liking whatever we have going on,” Niall laughs. “But tone it down. This just started.”  
  
Whatever this is.  
  
But Zayn is hopeful.  
  
-

-  
  
He likes it a lot already. Not because he catches Niall's eyes fluttering away when he tries to look back or that he notices Niall trying not to smile so hard. Everything has been good; but it's better how comfortable he feels. There's an actual difference that Zayn doesn't want to look back to if things change. It hurts him in some way just looking at Niall hiding and holding something. That was before. And now, everything's out.  
  
Thank god, because the next day, their interview is shackling already. They're twenty minutes in and Fulbright has put in more of what they want between the merger than what Norton can afford to comply with. Niall's gonna have to compromise because asking for Fulbright to have full control on revenues is too much. That's a split kind of work no one can take by the neck and go about.  
  
He's tense; rubbing his thighs under the table with his one hand while Zayn tries to comfort him with the other hand under his. No one can see this, it's totally safe. Niall just needs something to calm him down because he's barely having a word in this meeting. Or that every time he's making suggestions that both companies will profit from and not end up sacrificing anything in vain, Fulbright tries to go back with the plan that's more dominant over Norton. It's not that they're greedy for power; they're just not listening and taking what's in account for the two companies right now and for the future. And Niall's getting quite tired of the black and white conversation, A and B conversation – they need to come up with different shades of grey and C.  
  
“Okay, no—” Niall exhales so loud that Zayn's eyes burgeon wide when he pushes himself off his seat. “I want you to listen to me for two minutes.” Niall drops his pen over his notebook. He gets weak nods in return but, it might be because Niall's just interrupted them in the middle of their proposition.  
  
And he goes on. He's pacing around the room, holding a folder in his hand (something Zayn finds hot all of the sudden), steering their conversation to the path where it should have started on. No one's having a point in – they're quite nervous.  
  
Zayn's watching them carefully. They're nodding from time to time, and it must be because they're listening for once and not rushing to an unrealistic goal and ignoring a whole obstacle Norton can remove from both their paths. But he's far more interested in hearing Niall's – oh, sorry – Norton's plan. They are just speaking on behalf of the company. He didn't even realize Niall was calling him until he felt his hand on his shoulder asking, “Care to explain to these men where will our companies be if this merger ensues?”  
  
“With the merger, it would be bring a little more over 3,000 employees. This makes Norton Fulbright the company with the highest number of employees worldwide. Not only that, we’ll become one of the world top 10 largest law firms. Our firm could go from zero to 750 lawyers, and that’s in the US. That’s a market no law firm with global ambitions can ignore.” He replies collected, and he's given a little grasp behind his neck before Niall's pacing again.  
  
There's only so much Zayn can do that Niall can do better. The only thing he can do is learn from this and listen. Listening is the most important key in the world of law.  
  
The echoes of their feet heading towards the elevator are the only audible sounds they can hear. Zayn thinks any slight moves besides going back to the hotel and doing any ways means necessary would result into a whole kind of meeting again. He doesn't want another meeting, especially when it nearly lasted eight hours with two breaks. He just wants to be able to breathe.  
  
Niall's a foot away waiting for the elevator to come up as well. He's fidgeting with the paper sticking out in the folder while watching the floor numbers change.  
  
The door of the elevator dings and Niall's the first to swoop in inside, then Zayn where he lets Niall take a pick of the corner and is the one to hit the ground floor button.  
  
When it finally slides closed, Zayn turns to look at Niall just as he huffs.  
  
“Well, that's that.” Zayn shrugs, not sure if it really is.  
  
“God, that was excruciating.” Niall exhales, rubbing his face. “Thanks for being here.”  
  
“Credit goes to you.” Zayn puts a hand on Niall's shoulder. It's not a regular pat on the shoulder anymore when Zayn starts to soothe his fingers in. His eyes looks off from his hand to Niall taking deep breaths – whether it be the claustrophobia from the elevator or just Zayn touching him with this look on his face Niall wants to be seen like all the time.  
  
“Fuck.” Niall swears under his breath.  
  
His binder drops between them, only to kick it off their feet when they move closer together, mouths against each other already. Niall licks at Zayn's bottom lip before his teeth where his tongue meets Zayn's. Their inhales are sharp and long, letting the air flow out their mouths when part. A quick exhale over each other's lips does the trick.  
  
Zayn has a habit of keeping his eyes closed. And it kills Niall, knowing how he pushes his eyebrows in while they kiss. It just fuels Niall on even more as he starts to moan when Zayn tilts his head to a new angle to tongue Niall at.  
  
“You looked so hot in there.” Zayn pulls back, but keeps his forehead on Niall. Breaths mixing with each other as the heave for air in the mouths. Niall pushes his mouth back for a quick kiss before licking his own lips to taste Zayn.  
  
“Had this look on your face—I wanted to—” Zayn cuts his sentence with a moan before pushing his mouth against Niall, lips smacking against each other.  
  
Niall breathes out, “Tell me—” and pushes his mouth back before he can continue with his broken sentences and kisses. “What you—you would do—to me?” Even when Niall's pulling apart just to whisper something in between them, Zayn likes it every bit.  
  
But give Zayn the will to actually pull apart when Niall didn't. Niall's mouth hangs open when he realizes they're setting on the ground floor and Zayn's fixing his hair and collar. Niall scoops up the binder from the floor just before he heads out behind Zayn.  
  
“That wasn't professional, Mr. Malik.” Says Mr. Horan, fixing this weird part of his hair that 'Mr. Malik' did when his hand swiped over his hair.  
  
Zayn snorts his laugh before swallowing it down, twisting his lips to the side when he remembers they still have a job together that needs them not to be acting so initial and quick.  
  
His face is plain by the time they get outside of the building. It's a whole mixture between modern and old when Zayn looks out on the streets, watching the pedestrians walking by the building. Oh, how he misses London. He catches by the side of his sight their car pulling up. But that's not what's tipping Zayn over. A sudden urge to want to fuck him really pains him. Especially at work – the place he used to keep his cool. Everything he does – catching the keys from the parking attendant with one hand, so cocky and arrogant to drive the car off when they just rented this Tesla sport for the day. Niall can afford a Tesla, by the way.  
  
“I take full responsibility of my behaviour.” Zayn replies bland when they're in the car, fixing themselves to go back to the hotel. The roads are tight but they'll have to do with the one lane roads. There's really no such thing as a U-turn in London.  
  
“Can't say I regret some of the things I have done and might end up doing. So, early warning to you, sir.” Zayn replies lazily, buckling his seatbelt.  
  
The way Niall smiles, it makes Zayn feel less embarrassed for initiating that moment in the elevator. It tells him something about how Niall doesn't regret it either.  
  
Zayn is unsure if he is really ever going to do anything anymore. That was just a test in the elevator, and a drive Zayn just wanted to feel. The rush of being caught fuels him, not to the extent of having the chances of him or Niall being fired for having such affairs around the office. In fact, he's unsure of what to do when they go home and go back to work when here, no one is watching their every move but them.  
  
Coming back to the suite, all they want to do is change out of the clothes Niall admittedly hates, into a more casual attire Zayn hasn't outfitted himself in for quite a while – since he started working at the firm, actually.  
  
He can hear Niall making thuds on the other side of the wall – probably hitting his back against it as he puts on jeans or something. They continue while Zayn clicks the watch back on his wrist – a Rolex he treated himself to when he was handed his first pay check.  
  
He slides his foot into his boot as he pushes the sleeves of his long-sleeve shirt to his elbows in the washroom, ready to brush his teeth. It has been a while Zayn saw his forearm; the hairs smoothed across, the hard lining of few veins, and the inks on his wrist. He rarely has the opportunity anymore to see them during the day, minus the account of being naked or wearing short sleeves at home. Even so, he's got necklaces and rings Harry just likes to buy for him at Kennsington from those wooden stands outside stores. He's got a few that made it through the airport, decides to wear them now as well before he's ridden of this opportunity. Tying his hair back too, it used to be a thing he would do if he doesn't want his hair out.  
  
There's knocking on his door – no doubt it means Niall is ready to go so it must mean he should be too.  
  
He swings the door open. Then the two find themselves staring one another from the head top to the feet. They're both wearing nothing what each one of them expected from each other. Though Niall is wearing a simple outfit such as a light jean blue button down over a striped shirt with very fine lines going horizontal and black jeans, Zayn still can't seem to wipe the wince off his face when he observes Niall.  
  
“'N you are...?” Zayn grumbles with the toothbrush maneuvering on the left side of his teeth. He lets Niall close the door behind them when Zayn rushes to the washroom to spit out the foam.  
  
“I'm hungry.” Niall wanders around the suite before settling by the balcony where he looks out of the door. “Hotel food doesn't please me as street food in the markets or restaurants with patios.”  
  
“Great.” Zayn answers when he wipes his mouth. “While we're out, I wanna check out some of the sights and things.”  
  
“I believe we can fit a lot of things on today.” Niall shrugs, even if Zayn can't see.  
  
Time is really the worst enemy a person can have.  
  


-  
  
-  
  
  
They're out the rest of the day, hitting up restaurants and stores to bring back as souvenirs – touristy things Zayn really doesn't want to affiliate with but he thinks of Harry. Even if Harry didn't ask to bring anything home, he'll do so anyway.  
  
Spending lunch at a restaurant cost them two hours, just sitting there, eating and drinking as they please. They never wanted to stay for so long but it just felt right to when they never sit back and have a proper conversation anymore. The last time they did – nice to have it happen at least once – was the day he came for a follow up.  
  
Shopping and seeing the sights cost them the whole entire afternoon plus the bit of evening where the streets lights are dim, and it doesn't feel safe walking around. At least, they give company to each other.  
  
Zayn eventually ends up lost. When he talks with Niall, there's tension in his shoulders and hands that makes him afraid to say anything else. Maybe because Niall's just so overwhelming. It also brings relief to have a bond with him, someone easy and cheery as Niall himself now that he's away from work.  
  
He still feels lost – not knowing how things will go when they leave London. Not to mention, they have to be back in the office working on cases that would cause them to drift apart or lead to potential arguments. It was really easy at first to hide his admiration for Niall – how he was able to look at him and know they're colleagues and nothing else. After tomorrow, things need to be back to the way it were where Zayn can look at Niall and not want to see him any other way but his boss.  
  
Instead, he's the one knocking on Niall's door just before bed when he's got himself ready. Sleeping alone isn't exactly what Zayn wants right now when he stared at his king size bed for two minutes straight.  
  
Niall is on the phone when he answers the door, using the tone he uses around the office when he confides with employees. Zayn forgot – they're still working.  
  
“Merger with Fulbright did go well as planned.” Niall paces around the suite, Zayn's eyes becoming a pendulum when Niall walks through the rooms and comes out again.  
  
Niall gives Zayn an exasperated look when he leans by the foyer door to the bedroom. It's midnight, and Niall should have expected them to call so late at night.  
  
“I estimate fifty offices worldwide.” Niall rolls his eyes. “The predicted revenue is a billion dollars in US—wha'...? No, this gives Norton a foothold in the lucrative legal market.”  
  
It's a tall tale what Niall's boss wants. It's even a taller tale on why she's calling at midnight. On the other hand, Zayn is enjoying Niall's frustration, despite that he's falling half-asleep now.  
  
To wake up, he closes himself on Niall, trying to fight the grin off his face. Zayn's hand presses on his waist when Niall's hand rests on his hip. Zayn ignores the voice through the phone that Niall continues to argue against while he buries his face on the curve of Niall's neck. The aggravating part for Niall is not the phone call anymore. It's Zayn not attempting anything. He just breathes and blinks slowly, prolonging his eyelashes brushing on Niall's skin.  
  
“I'll get back to you first thing on Monday.” Niall hangs up without waiting for a goodbye.  
  
Zayn shrugs when Niall glares at him for assurance that he's not crazy. From what he heard from Niall's responses, it's as if his boss doesn't know how much billion dollars in USD costs or how hard it was to settle with a contract that is best for everyone.  
  
“Impatient.” Niall laughs, leaning his head against Zayn's head on his shoulder. “So it may seem.”  
  
“I'm only here because your TV has got movies.” Zayn looks to his room before bounding to his bed and making himself comfortable under the blanket. It adds on to the lie that he's actually here not to sleep alone in his room.  
  
“What do you plan on watching?” Niall tucks in on the other side of the bed.  
  
“Like Coraline.” Zayn shrugs. A slow paced movie with a thrilling plot is exactly what he needs.  
  
“A children's film?” Niall laughs.  
  
“Mock Coraline all you want.” Zayn sighs. “But don't neglect on the fact that this movie is about killing children.”  
  
“Did I get you mad?” Niall turns to face Zayn, cooing like it's cute for Zayn to get mad.  
  
“You're quite there.” Zayn lies on his side, facing Niall with a languid look in his eyes. They're quite close, just an inch of space between their nose. It's driving something within Zayn not to lean in.  
  
“Only bit of teasing.” Niall whispers. His fingers line the bone of Zayn's wrist. His blinks are heavy and dull, staring carefully at his finger not to make a fault when it brushes over down his forearm, feeling the hair tinge over his skin. It was shaky and hesitant, padding of his finger barely touching his skin. But it itches once the feather touch caresses away. “Are you really here to watch a movie?” His voice mixes with the quiet air.  
  
A weak shake of his head sends Niall to clasp Zayn's immobile hand, his thumb smoothing over his knuckles. It's driving Zayn nuts just being so close to each other, hearing the soft breath eliciting out from their half-chapped lips.  
  
“Are you here for me?” Niall's eyes take a slow glance of Zayn's lips before back up to his eyes. He swallows weakly, hearing the unexplainable sound of the push down his throat before it follows with faint smack of his lips breaking the closed seams.  
  
He notices the nod is hesitant but honest when Zayn has a look in his eyes—afraid to make a mistake between their such simple time. He takes the remote from Zayn, clicking it off and putting it off to the side.  
  
Facing back to Zayn, he moves his body even closer – takes the risk of caressing his fingers over the ink at his collarbone.  
  
“Don't feel scared about anything with me.” Niall gives a soft smile. “I'm here like you are for me.”  
  
“Then tell me what this is.” Zayn finally finds his voice. “Tell me, what we're doing.”  
  
The question catches Niall off guard – stops moving his thumb for a mere second before he continues again.  
  
“Sleeping together, right.” Niall moves his hand under his chin. “For the sake of having fun.”  
  
“That's it.” Zayn figured he was going to hear that. His tone seems lifting as if he's agreeing with it when Niall smirks. He breaks the seams of Zayn's lips with his – a light touch with some sort of pressure Zayn succumbs to. He takes it, and closes his eyes like all the other times.  
  
He sort of accepts it. Not being a hundred percent sure if he should but he does, at least for the night. He's not sure what he's supposed to be thinking right now about everything. As long as he knows, when Niall asks questions or answers Zayn's, it's just for the sake of making each other aroused.  
  
“Come on.” Niall exhales. He ducks down from sitting on top of Zayn, licks his bottom lips before the inside of his mouth. “I don't like when you're quiet.”  
  
Zayn swallows and lets the inhale and exhale do the talking for him. It was two minutes before they got naked, and about three minutes after when Niall pushed his face between Zayn's legs. Him sucking and licking his dick took about ten minutes in total. And Zayn focused on the time instead.  
  
“So fuck me then.” Zayn exhales when Niall starts to smile and laugh breathily.  
  
“Really needy.” Niall laughs into Zayn's mouth, forcing their mouths together before Zayn starts to think about how quiet he was all this time. He doesn't like it himself.  
  
“Hard, yeah?” Zayn nips on Niall's bottom lip before his hand stays on his sternum and pushes him back off. “Don't want it easy. I wanna feel you.” Niall grins when Zayn is pulling his hip, catching on what he means when Zayn starts to lick his lips and open his mouth open automatically. He's careful settling himself over Zayn's face—knees spread apart with his face in between his legs.  
  
“Mhm.” Zayn groans when his mouth fits around Niall's dick. His throat becomes busy, emitting moans frequently now that he can hear Niall whining confidently with him, grabbing his hair and tugging and pulling when he wants Zayn sucking at certain spots.  
  
“Ohhh fuck!” Niall knee collapses, finds himself sitting on Zayn, trying not to smother him with his groin. He grinds his hip over; slow and steady while Zayn bobs his head from the head to the middle of the shaft before pulling back up.  
  
Zayn does like what they're doing, he really does. Likes when Niall's on top, grinding his hip in Zayn, likes when Niall's pushing his body against Zayn. He can hear him grunt as he moves, and he likes that too. It makes Zayn's eyes roll back when he closes his eyes, letting his arms hook on his back so he could grip Niall's shoulders for relief. His mouth opens when he swallows, starting to catch up on his breathing. Niall stopped the grinding and started completely thrusting. He likes that.  
  
What he doesn't like is how he thinks he likes this, because he doesn't. Zayn actually hoped for more, can't believe that he thought his boss would like him enough past sex. Niall likes what Zayn does for and to him, not as a whole person he thought he meant this whole trip. Niall can fuck him to the point that he's moaning and wanting more, but Zayn will come back to his senses all the time and know it really means nothing.  
  
Yet, Zayn knows he is the one starting everything with Niall. He initiates everything and it's obvious it's his fault things are going like this. Sex and kissing is what all they ever started doing since they came to London, nothing else.  
  
And knowing the truth, coming wasn't a feeling Zayn thought it would feel. It's there, his heart is pumping, his legs and stomach are burning with intensity, and he's arching with his head tilted back as well. He finishes loud but empty with regret that when Niall finishes coming, he moves his head away from Niall when he tries for a kiss.  
  
“What's wrong?” Niall asks, stares at the outline of Zayn's jaw because that's all he sees, having his head turned to the side.  
  
“I just—I'm out of it, right now.” Zayn strains his voice when he's pushing Niall to get off. “Tired, actually.”  
  
He eventually rolls off of Zayn. “Alright, come on.” Niall puts a hand on Zayn's back, only for a brief moment when Zayn gets up, searching for his clothes.  
  
“I'm fine.” Zayn puts his sweats on, and then follows with his shirt. “My room is next door.”  
  
“Leaving again?” Niall scoffs. “Like before.”  
  
“Don't do that.” Zayn shakes his head. Especially when Zayn's got every right to leave.  
  
“You've got your freedom anyway, go ahead.” Niall exhales, turning away to the left, blocking any sight of Zayn.  
  
“I'm sorry.”  
  
“It's good, yeah...”  
  
He hoped to get a look back when he glanced over his shoulder, but Niall stays curled against himself, blanket wrapped around him, body slowly but deeply heaving. Niall must hate him now. Now more than ever.  
  
-

-  
  
On their way back to Toronto, it was even worse now than it was going to London.  
  
Danny surprised Zayn when he got to Pearson. Out of anyone, Danny is the only one who can drive and actually owns a car to travel the opposite side of Toronto before driving back. To be nice, Zayn invited Niall to a ride back, only to be dismissed when a 'call' came up, and said something about seeing him tomorrow. So it was a clear no.  
  
Much comes to worse at work when Zayn starts to fall back into liking Niall all over again when they fall back into regular habits of working together. Except, now that every time he and Zayn finish a meeting with the prosecuting client and lawyer, Niall ends up on his table with him asking for Zayn to fuck him in, between his propped up legs. And every time, does he agree – fucking him in to the point Niall's not taking it anymore – gasping and breathing for his life.  
  
Like today – he grips Zayn's hair with one hand and accidentally grips one of his own sheets on his table as Zayn thrusts, vigour and intent. This isn't bliss, or the kind of relationship Zayn wanted in the first place. But he can't help himself not to condone this kind of behaviour – not when Zayn's making Niall's mouth drop open with hair puffing out. This is such a risk to be doing this kind of thing in here, in a meeting room. Yet, Niall's already made his mark in this room, and set rules as to when people could come in, as well as for his office.  
  
Cut the work talk. Zayn's temple has a bead of sweat rolling down. Fucking Niall in a suit isn't helping anyone, but there's no choice – not when Niall made the first move for Zayn. The snap of his hips are quick but tight, hard enough to rock Niall in his place and watch his body push back against him. Two buttons are popped open from Niall's shirt – Zayn's doing when he wanted a taste from his neck and chest. Every little edgy thing about Niall is all Zayn's doing.  
  
“Zayn!” Niall gasps so deep that the muscles of his neck suddenly defined and his throat hollowed. Someone is knocking on his door. Niall's catching his breath with his head knocked back, his fist is weakly tugging on his dick. And Zayn stopped moving. “Who's there?” Niall stops everything momentarily, even his breath now. Zayn tries to catch his, and his hand is leaving a red mark on Niall's hips the longer he's holding him against his body.  
  
“Rebecca, sir. Just want to tell you that you've got another meeting this evening at 6.”  
  
Niall nods, sure that Rebecca can't see. “Thanks.”  
  
They wait for a few seconds to pass. In those seconds, Zayn is gaining his breath back and all of his senses back – like what in the world is he doing with his boss again?  
  
“I-I think we should —” Zayn stammers, setting Niall down on his table. It doesn't even matter if they don't finish. The risks of getting caught and Zayn's feelings weren't anything to be screwed with.  
  
“Y-yeah.” Niall shakes his head. He puts his briefs back on before his pants and shoes. He becomes busy with fixing his appearance that he has realized Zayn's lingered in this place for a long while now, and needs to go out. Now.  
  
Niall is bringing his briefs and pants back up to his hip, tucking his shirt in his trousers and zips up. Zayn isn't the only who thinks he needs to leave.  
  
“Tell me if there's anything wrong—” Zayn turns back from the door. Niall looks up from his files, just to fall back into relief when Zayn says, “with my work. I'll fax the new copies before I get home.”  
  
“What time do you leave?” Niall asks, fixing the button of his shirt.  
  
“I leave at 5, sir.” Zayn replies flatly. Niall couldn't hate anything more than Zayn calling him sir or by his last name. “Why?”  
  
“If it's not interfering with plans, I cook a lot for dinner sometimes, and—” he takes a deep breath. “I think I might tonight, and I don't believe—I'd finish it all just by myself.”  
  
“Um, do you want me to bring anything over?” Which means, Zayn is agreeing to going, without a clue of what he's actually doing. But it's the first that Niall has asked him to do anything after Echo Beach and London.  
  
“N-no!” Niall stutters. “Do you have a preference? I can cook up to the level of putting chicken in the oven and then walk away.”  
  
Zayn is laugh quietly. Can't believe he's laughing at all. “Anything works.”  
  
He asks Harry to fill that half a gallon of gelato from his work because even if Niall said not to bring anything, he knows Niall's going to at least expect something.  
  
He doesn't go to dinners. The last time he had dinner with anyone was with Harry yesterday, and that wasn't anything special either. Harry had picked up burritos from that restaurant across his work place, no big deal since Zayn ate there all the time. But this was his boss or friend – or whoever the fuck he is, inviting him over for the first time. But if Zayn knows any better, Niall just wants to finish what they couldn't in the office.  
  
He drops by his place, changing out of his clothes where he changes into a different attire – one would think Zayn is about to walk Armani's 2014 winter line. He's in his black wool coat, wrapping a scarf around his neck. He's completely neckless, but at least he's warm.  
  
“Where are you going now?” Harry asks, looking over from his novel.  
  
“I've got plans.” Zayn mumbles when he opens the fridge, pulling out the gelato he asked for. He digs for a bill in his pocket – finds a ten and slaps it over Harry's shoulder. “Here, I owe you. I'll give you the dollar later.”  
  
“What sort of plans?” Harry continues on with the questions.  
  
“Dinner with – thing.” Zayn shoves his feet in his boots, pushing his heel down while the heel's leather is bending in with his foot.  
  
“What's the occasion?” Harry quips, grinning now.  
  
“Probably wants to finish something we couldn't get to.” Zayn strains when he pulls the bending fabric of the heel of his boots out.  
  
“You said you weren't going to do anything with him anymore.” Only pouring more guilt into Zayn that he never told Harry they just fucked today as well. It's not a daily thing, though it happens frequently throughout the week. Mostly Wednesday’s and Friday's.  
  
“I know, but it's just dinner.”  
  
“Just dinner.” Harry repeats far from being convinced. “It's not _just_ _dinner_ and you know that.”  
  
“What do you want me to do?” Zayn exhales. If anything, he doesn't actually know what to do at all. Yes, it's just dinner but he's been thinking about it not being dinner at all. “I just want answers.” Zayn shrugs. “I know what I want. Niall doesn't. And if I press him—he'll tell me.” Harry's still not convinced. “If things go wrong, I'll leave.”  
  
He knows Niall. Knows him better than his other employees and even his boss. Probably because they met before he even started working at the firm. It's not going to be dinner.  
  
“Come home right after.” Harry tips quietly. “I don't trust him.”  
  
“Don't worry.”  
  
But he's dubious himself.

-

-  
  
He arrived at Niall's place, later than expected. Not his fault, street cars are slow during the weekdays. By the time he came, the dessert had already begun to melt. Niall puts in the freezer, as if they're actually going to get to it later.  
  
Niall has already started on dinner, stuck to the idea of roasting a chicken in the oven so he wouldn't have to be doing anything. Zayn really doesn't care what they eat; he wants to know why he's invited here in the first place. He can't look at this place like he's never seen it before because he has – not in the way he planned.  
  
Zayn sits at the living room, unsure of what he's supposed to be doing right now. The T.V. is on with a movie that's already half way finished. Niall had given him wine, and his glass is close to being empty. He's off the edge, not knowing what's going to be tonight's plan because it's not just dinner, and Zayn doesn't want it to be where he finds himself sleeping over like before.  
  
A buried part of him wants to – knowing there are things about Niall that isn't all leading Zayn up to thinking he actually likes him. He's diligent and confident, likes things his way and if it doesn't work his way, he makes it happen. Not to mention, he's not the kind of boss that people make forums about; apart from him just being a few ages ahead and not an actual gap.  
  
He really hates putting himself out like this. It's wrong but it's the one way Zayn gets to spend time with him. Even if Niall doesn't like him the same way, Zayn guesses that things won't always be going his way. At least he's at that part where Niall thinks of him.  
  
“What do you want to do for an hour?” He asks when his attention breaks from the movie. He can care less about the movie.  
  
“How'd your meeting go?” Zayn asks instead.  
  
Niall raises his eyebrow at him. He answers anyway. “Fine. But I believe that it was just time filler. There wasn't actually anything to bring up but the trends between the merger, in which—there is nothing to worry about.”  
  
Zayn nods because there's nothing to say. His day is going mundane if Niall wants to ask.  
  
“What do you want to do?” Niall asks again, shifting even closer to Zayn.  
  
“I-I don't know.” Zayn mutters, his hands on his lap. He didn't take in with his senses how close Niall was against him until his hand is being taken in between Niall's. It's all warm and kind, and scary all at the same time.  
  
“I'm glad you came tonight.” Niall mutters, putting the hand over Zayn's hand into his hair before leaning in, closing their lips together.  
  
Zayn lets it continue; lets Niall tug his hair, lets Niall's other hand settle on his cheek, lets their lips press against each other. It's slow, not too forced – the kind that leads them to go faster and harder because everything is just going so damn well.  
  
Zayn pulls back with a breath when Niall leans forward and turns his head, nudges his lips back over Zayn. It's more forceful this time, but still slow. And it isn't until Niall licks his bottom lip, that Zayn's cheeks are suddenly burning. He pulls back with a breath again, and Niall's closing in again – not to kiss, but laugh quietly while keeping Zayn close to him.  
  
“You okay?” Niall grins, thumbing Zayn's hair.  
  
“I'm fine.” Zayn looks down between them to avoid Niall's eyes, before Niall took the opportunity to tilt his head back up by lifting his chin.  
  
He runs his thumb over his bottom lip; laugh fading away into a weak smile.  
  
“You're something,” Niall starts. And Zayn's swallowing his nervousness down. Niall could sense those sorts of things. He can't believe he's starting early, and they haven't even had dinner. Harry is so right.  
  
“So different, so nice. You always think of everybody else first, always giving your best.” Niall continues. His gaze his soft and sleepy, and it's putting a lot of pressure in Zayn whether to believe everything he says or not. “Everything I like.”  
  
“What are we doing?” Zayn asks, like before. It's familiar to Niall that his smile fades away, and his hand is barely touching his hair. This is like déja vu all over again.  
  
“I thought we were—” Niall stops himself when Zayn looks away from him. “What's wrong?”  
  
“I can't do this.” Zayn answers with his lips barely moving. Staring back at Niall, he gives a weak smile. “Sorry.”  
  
“Zayn, talk to me.” He mutters, grimacing right into Zayn's eyes. They don't stare back.  
  
“I wanna go home.” Zayn whispers. “If I stay here, I would wanna stay longer and I don't wanna stay. You don't think of me like that but it's okay.” Zayn inches away from Niall, avoiding his proximity. “I mean, you used me and I let you since that first time we met and...” Zayn huffs.  
  
“Those weren't my intentions, Zayn. You – you do mean a lot to me.” Niall explains, wants to hold Zayn's face but he holds his hands back, not knowing if he's allowed to stop the throbbing of his cheeks. Niall knows when those come around.  
  
“If I didn't tell you, you'd keep going, telling me these lies so we can keep this going.” Zayn laughs, pressing the base of his palm over his eyes.  
  
“I wouldn't have known that that's how you felt about our sexual affairs when the whole point to it was to have sex.” Niall scoffs. “I believe that is what we agreed on.”  
  
“But that's why I'm telling you now that I don't want to continue doing this anymore.” Zayn presses his fingers over his eyes. “Don't get mad, this isn't anything worth to get mad over.”  
  
“So why'd you stay if I made you feel like shit?” Niall quips, lifting his knee before he's sitting farther away from Zayn. “Make me the bad guy, you're the one who always came onto me. You could've said something but you didn't. You stayed, and for what exactly?”  
  
“I didn't accept this whole thing just to fool around.” Zayn scoffs. He's the one who has to explain himself? “I took it because it'd be the only time when you were able to talk to me like you actually think of me as someone you can talk to so easily.” Zayn covers his face when he puts his elbows on his knees. “You never held back—so I thought to stay and take it. I-I even tried to give my best at work. The stupidest thing you had me do—like make you coffee, and I went out looking for the best brand.” Zayn sighs, rolling his eyes when he gets up. “It was so stupid. This is stupid. I'm stupid.”  
  
Zayn huffs like he's pushing his tears back when Niall held his wrist back.  
  
“Stop!” Zayn shakes his head. “I'm leaving, Niall.” His voice is on the verge of trembling.  
  
“You can't leave.” Niall pushes the hair behind Zayn's ear. “Not now. I'm sorry, Zayn.” He continues to mumble until he's burying his face onto Zayn's shoulder.  
  
Zayn tries to rub Niall's back. It's distant and meaningless that it just stays on a spot afterwards.  
  
He can hear how deep Niall's breathing is; how ragged and shaky. Just like how Zayn feels. “I like you that way. And I'm not saying that because I don't want you to feel like shit. I don't but I mean it's not out of pity.” Niall's fingers press firmer on Zayn's shoulder. “You're 24, and I'm 27. I've lost my care free days when I started working up to this position. But you—you make me feel alive again, like you make me do things without thinking, and it's such a rush. Especially with the way you challenge me. You aren't afraid. A rush, Zayn. That's how I always feel when you're around.”  
  
And it's those words that Zayn falls into; his weight relaxing in Niall's embrace. “I make you feel like that?” He asks uncertain. Anyone can say such words and twist them to mean something else. It's Niall's job in the first place to be so conniving and convincing. But, with the doubt springing in him, there's no way Zayn would lie to him about this. He's honest, and he has seen Niall lie. It's a small detail Zayn's pinpointed, and no one else has discovered it. And there might not be no yet.  
  
“Mhm,” Niall nods with a smile, unhooking his chin from Zayn's shoulder. He looks at him, face to face, holding his jaw; eyes glistening as if he's just about to cry right then and there. “My feelings for you are honest. Not just for the sex, okay? I never thought it meant nothing. I just wanted you around all the time.”  
  
“I wanna be around.” Zayn grins, putting his lips over Niall, his thumb caressing Niall's cheek. He nudges his mouth even harder when Niall's arms make around him again, and Zayn held his face even closer against his before he could pull away with a grin.  
  
“Let's watch your Coraline?” Niall asks, his voice so silvery.  
  
“No, let's watch your CMT.” Zayn grins tightly and falls back on the couch.  
  
Niall scoffs once he settles beside Zayn who's flipping to the atrocious channel of everything country. He's sacrificing a bit of his dignity listening to these red Camaro-obsessed lads.  
  
“I'm starting to think you secretly love country music.” Niall had burgeoned into a fruity laugh.  
  
“Don't be an ass.” His elbow jabs Niall on his side. Then a light bulb flicks on. “Do I have to go to work tomorrow?” Zayn lays his head on Niall's shoulder.  
  
“You're not getting any kind of special treatment at work.” Niall chortles, his arm comes around Zayn's shoulder. Besides the sex. That, he can exclusively give to him.  
  
At least he tried.  
  
“You still have to go to your designated days of work.” Niall lists. “Finish all the assignments I've given to you by the end of the week, and oh—organize my office. I'm redecorating.”  
  
“Oh, how fucking liberating.” Zayn scoffs. And since when was Zayn Martha Stewart? He's never decorated anything in his entire life but his plain, white, minimal room.  
  
“At least you've got twenty vacation days and ten paid sick days.” Niall lolls his head back. “And tomorrow.”  
  
“What do I have planned tomorrow?” Zayn wouldn't know. Niall would. He likes to give Zayn everything. Zayn could have no plans tomorrow and not even know that Niall had scheduled something for him to do.  
  
“You tell me.” Niall laughs quietly. “Lunch, dinner, hit a bar after work, catch the Raptors game at 7.”  
  
“It all sounds lovely and amazing,” Zayn closes his eyes. All the possible things they do—they're quite endless. “But you haven't quite won this night yet. It all depends upon your cooking and what happens after.”  
  
And the unfortunate thing is, Zayn wants to stay. Hearing Harry's voice constantly echoing in his head about trusting Niall, he figures it's wrong if he stays. It'd send a message to Harry Zayn doesn't want to give at a time like this after their conversation. Niall would understand that he can't stay. It doesn't mean he likes to see Zayn leave when they still have time left. And it doesn't mean Zayn can't leave at 4 in the morning.

-

-  
  
Harry might lighten up on him. Having dessert, Niall is falling in love with the gelato. He doesn't have to say anything for Zayn to know he's enjoying it. But he might have to cut him off now that he's looking at the possible situations where Niall is going to call him and make him fetch a half-gallon. Although, he might be able to see Harry more often than before. This time, with Niall!  
  
They visit Harry during their break. An hour is not enough for the two to come from Bay St. so Niall excused Zayn for the afternoon. The employees say he's getting special treatment because god knows why. Really, Zayn just does his work at Niall's place while they have takeout. Zayn has nothing much to do at work when he's finished most of it so why not?  
  
“Oh, you.” Harry grumbles when Niall enters the café first with Zayn following from behind.  
  
“Why so glum, chum?” Niall snickers. “Because we're your only tip for today?”  
  
“Big talk, big shot.” Harry's laugh is grating.  
  
“Guys.” Zayn scolds them from his table.  
  
The two mutter their apologies, glaring at each other when the two go about their way. Harry goes back to fixing their regular order and Niall's sitting across Zayn who's checking his emails on his phone.  
  
“This is weird.” Zayn sighs, putting his phone down once Niall settles.  
  
“What is?” Niall taps Zayn's foot under the table. They always touch in some way. Out in public during work, they can't hold hands as much as they want to so they settle with a little flick or foot touch.  
  
“Your email.” Zayn explains before he's mimicking Niall's voice. “Zayn, I have received your email and acknowledged your recommendations in the renewal contract between Diageo, the company that owns Smirnoff, which was formed by a merger of Guinness and Grandmet. Please finish the final copy of the contract and go over procedures for Thursday's meeting. Thanks.”  
  
“You remember it all.” Niall laughs. Maybe Zayn is the perfect employee working for him. Even better than he was.  
  
“That's not the point.” Zayn nudges his foot against Niall's. “It's your syntax. It's so formal and then here we are... No formal syntax.”  
  
“So should we speak on such terms that we sound more like conventional colleagues that like to bullshit one another more than people that actually make our days’ worth while?”  
  
“Such a sap.” Harry groans, placing their gelato order on their table. “Just talk normally, will you?”  
  
“Why are you so bitter?” Niall grimaces. “I thought Jess is treating you right.”  
  
“I'm just looking out for Zayn. You aren't really my favourite person, Niall.” Harry's lips twist. Zayn's shifting uncomfortably, focused on the spoon resting tightly between his lips as Niall stares diligently at Harry. Oh boy, his boss and best friend fighting. How nice.  
  
“Whatever I've done wrong,” Niall exhales, still staring Harry right into his eyes. “I do apologize, and I hope you won't hold a grudge over me.”  
  
Harry breaks out in laughter, gripping and shaking Niall's shoulders. “Nice try, Niall. I hear that plummy voice of yours coming out. This attitude isn't going to fulfill your desire to have Zayn sleep over if you keep acting like this.”  
  
“Desire...” Niall whispers, nudging Zayn's foot. “I like that.”  
  
“I am old enough to care for myself.” Zayn lifts a brow, joining in on their conversation.  
  
“It's bad enough I'm having dinner alone and it's because of this guy.” Harry responds to Zayn, pointing the gelato scooper at Niall.  
  
“I think my cooking is better.” Niall mutters quietly.  
  
“I'm there to finish my assignments. Not much else. There's no time for anything.” Niall nods solemnly. It's been quite a while they haven't fucked—it's life-draining but what can he do? Work is more important than his little affair with Zayn outside of work while they do work.  
  
“Besides, I hate Niall when he's watching me work.” Zayn grits his teeth. “Always starting arguments that don't even fucking help with the situations at hand.”  
  
“I told you she was innocent.” Niall grimaces with a cocky look on his face as well. “You didn't listen to me.”  
  
“No, I told you she was innocent.” Zayn kicks Niall's shin without hesitance. “You landed her in holding!”  
  
Niall glares at Zayn before snapping his sight on Harry. His lips twist, adding to his look but he's just getting a proper taste of the gelato's flavour. “Anyways, it's why he's able to come here on lunch hours.”  
  
“Though I do prefer the visit while we're not working.” Harry nods to himself, agreeing with himself that his points make sense. “And no boss.”  
  
“Oh boo.” Niall drones, rolling his eyes. It's not like Niall doesn't have his own life. That's funny. He won't remind Harry that he's the reason he gets a $30 tip nearly every day. He helps Harry by adding at least a $20 in his jar.  
  
“Sorry Harry.” Zayn mutters quietly.  
  
“Don't stress, Zayn.” Harry laughs quietly. “I'm not even home most of the time as well. I'm just scaring you.”  
  
“Yeah, he's always with Jess so I don't understand why he's crying.” Niall scoffs, shaking his head.  
  
“So I should be able to stay over at Niall's without you up my ass.” Zayn grimaces, ignoring Niall's hard nudge against his foot.  
  
“Let me set things straight.” Harry exhales, cracking his fingers. When he cracks his fingers, it means he's going to prepare a really long lecture involving hand gestures between the two of them. “You're a great guy, Niall. What Zayn sees in you, the fuck I know... But, I don't trust any boss.”  
  
“No hard feelings, Niall.” Zayn shrugs. “He's like this with every boss.”  
  
“Yeah.” Harry nods shamelessly and turns to Niall. “You're the reason why I don't like you.”  
  
“I didn't think otherwise.” Niall's voice falters until he's mind is lighting up. “I'm not a bad guy. I just get work done.”  
  
“By getting Zayn to fetch you coffee, right?” Harry huffs. “Oh wait, what else? Oh yeah, you make him do the work your boss gives you because you're lazy!”  
  
“I'll have you know, it was a joke with Zayn.” Niall gives a gruff answer. “And he caught on eventually. By the way, Zayn, we gotta talk about the things you tell Harry.”  
  
“Okay, I get it. You guys have your games.” Nodding, he hums in amusement as well. “But it doesn't erase the fact that you're mean.”  
  
“Mean?” Niall repeats. “I haven't heard that since high school.”  
  
“Alright, old man.” Harry scoffs. “I'm gonna get back to work”  
  
“Go get'em, baby H.” Niall snickers, flicking up a twenty dollar bill.  
  
Zayn usually stays away whenever they're quarrelling. It's just a little banter because Harry likes to defend him on some sort of things. He still remembers what Niall did to Zayn, doubts if Niall's as nice as he is seems to be faking it. And Niall likes to annoy Harry for a reaction, and it also builds some sort of relationship he knows would be important to Zayn because—well, Niall wants to stay around longer than he can say I love you.  
  
It's been nearly a year since Zayn joined the team. He's learned quite a few things around here that could drive him harder than ever to go to reach the top. Of course, no higher than Niall. And it's safe to say the job wants him just as much as he wants it as well.  
  
On the other hand, Harry could have never hated anyone's presence than Niall at their place. He never did like Niall after Zayn told him that all they did (before officially dating) was fuck, but hell—he's gotta grow up with it sometime considering how helpful Zayn is around their place now. Harry knows it's to show off to Niall, look like the most diligent roommate ever so he doesn't look like a slacker, who he really is at home. Of course, Harry can't talk—he brings Jess around from time to time as well.  
  
“Celebration, am I right?” Danny with open arms, brings out champagne and enough glasses he can hold in one hand.  
  
“What for?” Zayn grimaces.  
  
“To your steady job.” Leigh grins very excitedly. “Be thankful Mr. Horan didn't fire you. You must've worked really hard.”  
  
“It's Niall.” Niall has to repeat it about seven times for people to understand that if he's not working with them, they don't have to call him anything formal. Unless they're Harry Styles—it's sir.  
  
“And he did work hard.” Niall shrugs, a light grin wiped on his face. “Celebrate it, Zayn—because I'll give you tougher shit to deal with. Then one day, you can be running your own case. And you better win.” His tone is deep but he gives Zayn a quick, light kiss over his lips.  
  
“Hey,” Harry calls out to Niall. His aggressive tone is triggering something in Niall to smirk.  
  
“Yes, baby H?” Niall bats his eyelashes. “Need your bottle open?”  
  
“You're so—” Harry grunts as he tries to pull the cork out. “Just open it and shut up.”  
  
“You know—” Niall bites his lip when he pops the cork out, foam spilling accidentally over their hardwood floor. Oh, Harry's mad, but Zayn's cleaning it up already. It slipped out like butter greasing a ring off, but Harry thinks he loosened it for him. “You can't drink this, Baby H.”  
  
“I'll have you know I bought it.” Harry grabs a tissue, quickly wiping the drop sliding down to the base of the bottle. He should've let it drop on Niall's suit.  
  
“You both talk too much shit.” Leigh snatches the bottle out Harry's and Niall's hands, taking a glass and pouring some in before she's handing it to Zayn.  
  
“It explains its poor quality.” Zayn cackles when he smells his drink and watches the fizz. It's just to fuel their banter.  
  
“Jess,” Harry turns back. “Aren't you going to say something?”  
  
“Uh,” Jess blows out some air, deflating her puffed out cheeks. “I like the nachos. Did you make the beans? It's really good.”  
  
Niall starts to laugh, cackling louder than Zayn's stifled laugh behind his glass. He's laughing quite hard that he's pressing his face into Zayn's shoulder.  
  
“Listen here—” Harry grits his teeth, hissing quietly to Jess who's trying hard not to break into laughter.  
  
“Baby H,” Niall calls out, still laughing—much lower. “I'll help you out. We can go to the distillery district and look for proper champagne or wine the next time you want to throw something.”  
  
“Jess, he's trying to steal me away from you.” Harry puts his arm around Jess' waist, frowning at Zayn and Niall.  
  
“Yes, Niall—take him away.” Jess huffs just when she starts to nudge Harry off of her with her hip.  
  
“It's just a wine date!” Niall laughs with his hand out, as if everything then would be innocent between them. Harry speculates Niall would leave him or worse, drown him with wine.  
  
“Say yes.” Zayn sighs. “He's actually being nice to you for once. Hold it against him.”  
  
“Don't give him tips.” Niall grumbles offside to Zayn.  
  
“Whatever,” Harry rolls his eyes. “It's not like I have anything better to do.”  
  
“Or, the fact that you've wanted to go wine tasting and all that shit so bad but everyone was too busy for you.” Danny shrugs. “Or, you have nothing better to do, y'know.”  
  
“Okay, it's about Zayn today.” Harry hisses, monotony. “Yay Zayn. You did it. Hooray. You finally have a proper job. Try not to screw it up. Especially for me.”  
  
“Fucking weak speech—” Zayn scoffs, tipping his glass back against his lips.  
  
Only to be halted by Niall's hand holding his hand back. He's got the taste of the champagne on the seam of his lips.  
  
“Zayn—the one associate and assistant I forced you to be, whom I actually like, and don't want to strangle at all sometimes... Thank you for helping me out in times of need, and I do hope you don't screw up. I don't want to have to fire you and lose the one person that drives me to go to work.”  
  
And no one talks about the feeling in their face when they try not to smile and coo at Zayn stuck gazing at Niall, or the fact that Niall isn't – but is the one taking the first sip so no one realizes his cheeks are flushing. Harry doesn't want to admit it was a pretty nice speech for a boss (maybe because this particular boss is dating his best friend).  
  
“Now you drink.” Niall gestures at Zayn.  
  
“Oh, right—” Zayn stammers before knocking his drink back empty.  
  
That's how their evening goes, with a few more glasses in their system – and a hell of a lot laughing, mostly because Harry cannot play President for shit. It seems like fate favours Niall when it's always Harry handing him his two highest cards. Niall's always president and Harry's stuck being bum. Zayn stays back, helping Niall organize his cards before they could fight the others and win while he hides his face in the crook of Niall's warm neck. Zayn can smell the cologne – the cologne Niall so often wears. It stirs Zayn even in the office, heightening his senses.  
  
Then they're playing spoons – kind of like signal but much more adrenaline pumping. This time Zayn's playing, but fuck – he didn't expect to suck so badly.  
  
The thing with this game, someone passes cards down and you have to collect four of the same cards and pass down the ones you don't need. Once you get all four cards, you grab a spoon or something you can pick up easily. The one person who doesn't get one is out. And Zayn –  
  
“Come on!” Jess bites her lip, flipping the card upside before she's facing it back down.  
  
Everyone's always glancing up at Zayn who's got 6 cards pending before he can pass them down to Danny who's not getting any cards at all because of Zayn's delayed turning of the cards.  
  
“Jesus...” Danny exhales, flipping a card up before facing it back down. And there's a two second wait between him being passed a card – two seconds too long.  
  
“Chill!” Zayn's working like a machine – flipping hard that he's missed the king he needed to complete his hand to pick up a spoon.  
  
Everyone's laughing, and Zayn doesn't know why until he's looking up and tossing his cards across the table. There are no more spoons – wow.  
  
“Are you _fucking_ kidding me!” Zayn growls, his head tilting back in anger.  
  
“You're so slow.” Niall chuckles.  
  
“Fuck you guys.” Zayn grumps, watching the next round go by without him.  
  
“He's very much gone.” Someone whispers. Zayn can't tell whose talking but they're annoying him. It's probably Harry. “Do you wanna stay with him?”  
  
“ _Oh_ , _really_? Sure.”  
  
“Because we're going to go very soon. And—I guess it won't be so bad.”  
  
“It's fine.” He answers. “It's not like we're going to be doing anything.”  
  
“With you here, I doubt it.”  
  
Whatever that means, Zayn doesn't have any sense to fight them off. They're halfway gone – gone somewhere just like the many few glasses he's had tonight.  
  
He bids everyone a goodnight, even Harry who he closes the door on. Zayn doesn't know what the hell he's doing out their place but he's with Jess – guessing he'll be dropping her off or some sort. Maybe sleeping over because Harry can. The funny thing is, he can't when it comes to him over at Niall's. Until he turns back to the living room to clean up, that he's found a loophole.  
  
“ _Hey_!” Zayn gasps, fidgeting with his fingers as he watches Niall struggling to make a one-way trip with plates to the kitchen.  
  
“Hi there.” Niall laughs quiet enough to only be heard around himself. “I'll be with you shortly.”  
  
“Sounds like retail.” Zayn looks around helplessly. He's noticing things around their condo for the first time – like Harry's black rug under his desk. “Welcome to Banana Republic. There are no bananas actually for sale. Please take your grocery bag back with you.”  
  
“Oh Zayn,” Niall exhales, smiling at his hot mess. “I think it's bed time for you.”  
  
“If you're staying,” Zayn grimaces, trying to sort out all the things in his head. “That means... It's bed time for you as well.”  
  
“I'm just washing these glasses.” Niall sighs. “Want Harry to like me.”  
  
“Oh, he does. Just dislikes a lot of people but me. Depending on the day, time, year...”  
  
Niall turns the taps off before he can wipe his hands with a cloth. “Do all of your friends like me?”  
  
“Of course. I haven't heard anything negative.” Suddenly Zayn throws his arms around Niall's neck, embracing the air out of him. Niall begins to laugh as he gets his arms around as well, Zayn causing them to sway together and balance on one foot each time. “But all that matters is that I love you.” He says in a sing-song voice.  
  
Niall's laugh gets softer as he rests his head on the arms Zayn's embracing his neck with. They're still swaying, all because of Zayn who just feels giddy at the moment.  
  
“Will you remember that tomorrow?” Niall asks, deep in tone so Zayn can register it.  
  
“I remember it now. I'll remember it tomorrow. I'll remember it next week.” Zayn answers quietly. “Even if you call me a stupid idiot at the office, I'll still love you.”  
  
Niall smiles tightly, the corners of his lips stretch as Zayn continues to comfort him on the spot.  
  
“It's for your own good. You work better infuriated. But enough of that, would you like to head to your room?” Niall proposes quietly. “We can talk there before you end up collapsing on me.”  
  
“No, I'm okay. I'm great.”  
  
“I'm certain you have work at 9, don't you?” Especially when Niall made Zayn's schedule for him. Since Zayn won't move, Niall starts to walk him through – hoping they don't trip against each other.  
  
“Can't I come in late?”  
  
“No.” Niall laughs in pity, messing Zayn's hair up.  
  
“What time do you come in?”  
  
“I have a day off.”  
  
“Oh my god. Why?” Zayn whines, collapsing right when the edge of the bed is at his knees, falling right on his stomach.  
  
Niall sits beside him, patting his head. “Unless you call in for a sick day.”  
  
Zayn starts to wave his arm on Niall. “Niall, I'm sick and I can't come to work.”  
  
“You're funny.” Niall chuckles as he rolls the remaining part of Zayn's hanging legs over the bed.  
  
Zayn starts to scoot until he feels comfortable on the middle of the mattress. Taking one of his pillows, he starts to hug it, smothering a part of his face as he lies on his back. He stops moving at some point. Niall just watches from the side to see if he's really asleep before he can leave. He must be really exhausted – casually laying on bed with his jeans on and t-shirt. No, not yet, Zayn's making movement and it wouldn't look good if he's not beside him.  
  
“So what benefits do I get for dating my boss?” Zayn smiles into his pillow before he can focus on Niall's presence through his slowly blinking eyes. It's hard to stay up when all he feels is his fatigue draining.  
  
His smile grows even tighter at the pressure of Niall's lips over his cheeks; the warmth and softness of his kiss is blanketing every part of him, starting with the intensity of the abrupt kiss on cheek.  
  
“More where that came from.” His voice drones while he's propped up with his elbow. His face is still near Zayn's, not even an inch apart. Zayn doesn't have to open his eyes bigger. Feeling Niall's lips brush onto his cheek is good enough to know he's close.  
  
He turns his head in a slight manner when he blinks up to Niall with his smile faint on his face but it's there before he can take their lips together, have them press between each other in the most delicate kind of way it never has before.  
  
“You taste like iced tea.” Zayn grumbles quietly. The flavour is on the tip of his tongue and he doesn't know how Niall tastes like that.  
  
“That's also a benefit if you date me.” Niall sneaks in before closing his lips with Zayn's again.  
  
“Iced tea?” Zayn grimaces but erases whatever is burgeoning in his mind about iced tea.  
  
“The states have a really good one with raspberry that I can get.” Niall exhales as his hand creeps on Zayn's chest to his neck. “I—” he moans quietly as the pressure between them increases. A short second is still long enough for anyone to hear. “In addition, you can get an office.”  
  
“Really?” Zayn pulls off with excitement.  
  
“No, sorry. I wish.” Niall frowns apologetically, and makes it up with a kiss. “But my office could be your second home. Just don't leave anything there.”  
  
“That defeats the whole purpose of calling your office my second home.” Zayn huffs.  
  
“On the contrary, there is a difference between a home and a house.” Niall smirks. “My office isn't your house, but it could be a home.”  
  
“Not when I come there to get five cases to read for you because you're a lazy shit who doesn't read what he has to.”  
  
“But that's why you're my associate. You read, I close and defend. It's teamwork.”  
  
“Oh Niall,” Zayn lets out a quiet breath, then leans in to let their lips touch again. “You don't know what teamwork is.”  
  
And Zayn's turning on his side against Niall, eyes shut right then. His eyelashes have caused Niall to fall into a trance as he watches how perfect each and every one is. With the pulse of Zayn's neck beating under his palm, he's scared to even move his fingers to his nape.  
  
There hasn't been any kind of movement for a while. Zayn is sound asleep with no intentions of working tomorrow. Niall can let it pass, but the last thing he wants is for anything to change between them at work. Some of the staff know, but no one says anything unless they want Niall to fire them. Rebecca has figured it out the day Niall had started having her call in Zayn for coffee. Niall wasn't an avid coffee drinker until Zayn came a long. The many attempts not to make it obvious around the office has its different levels. They've stopped fooling around in Niall's office, knowing that they only had fucked there to establish that things were okay when they weren't. Now that thing's are great, they can't act irresponsible and neglect their priorities in the office. With exceptions. Niall gets weak, and Zayn likes to think it's funny to tease him like he does – pacing as he reads, sitting on his desk facing Niall, feeling the clench of Zayn's grip on Niall's shoulder – shit, it's all too subtle but obvious.  
  
Darkness becomes a blanket around Zayn all of the sudden; his eyes blinking to the sight of his window as the only source of light. It rouses him that all he has is the emptiness of his room. For some reason, it makes his chest heavy to let someone walk away like that without having to fight for them to stay. Even though no one's to blame, it's ridiculous how much Zayn wants to cry right now. It's the alcohol, he bets.  
  
All of the sudden – through the silence of their condo and mute movement, Niall's knocked forward with a presence behind him he holds on to without a second thought. He looks down at his foot with the shoe on before turning to the hand on his shoulder that he holds his hand over.  
  
“Zayn, what are you doing?” Niall tries to balance him and Zayn not to fall and hoping Zayn doesn't slip from his grasp and fall to the ground.  
  
“Come back.” Zayn says groggily, voice suppressed by his mouth pressed against the curve of Niall's neck, his sweater being soft against his skin.  
  
“I'm going home, Zayn.” Niall laughs quietly as his other foot turns his shoe upright, ready to slip it on. “I'll take you back to your room.”  
  
“With me.” Zayn says softly; his voice crooning quietly in his ears. “Just tonight if it's okay with you.”  
  
Niall lets a deep breath out, before he can turn around and hold Zayn by his shoulder. Zayn looks down as Niall tries to slip out of his shoes. His eyes are barely open, and Niall doesn't understand why Zayn thinks he can just move around like he's in a state of mind to. He has an arm around Niall's waist as he digs his toes in the back of his shoes to slip out of. Zayn's dead tired but he'll do anything like wake up from his senses to hold Niall back from leaving.  
  
Niall leads them back to Zayn's room. Zayn's more conscious to shift himself from the edge of the bed to the middle with the duvet over his legs. Meanwhile, Niall's slipping beside him; he tries to shake out of his jeans, rubbing his foot against his leg so that it'd slip to his ankles. It's that same moment he feels Niall's warm skin against his bare thigh, he kicks off the jeans and settles to rest again.  
  
Niall can't argue that he'd rather be home than where he is right now – pressed against Zayn – the one thing he's longed for since the first night they met. Zayn leaving is still fresh in his mind – slipped from his arms to leave the night to disappear from him. Whatever brought them back here again, Niall wants to thank it.  
  
He leans in slowly and reflectively as his gaze falls on Zayn's lips. Zayn's too tired, too numb to move and close the space faster. There's no reason to rush, Niall will eventually come. Just as he thought, the seam of his lips break just as Niall closed in. It's soft and warming; it sparks Zayn, just as if all the good things that makes Zayn feel all tingly inside are mixed together.  
  
“Don't leave before the morning.” Zayn's whisper is delicate over Niall's lips. He relaxes and lets his body relax eventually.  
  
“Not leaving you.” And it's another kiss from Niall; just a soft touch above Zayn's lips that he'll take with him everywhere.  
  
But it's in this one kiss that Niall tells him everything he wants Zayn to know. It's always in one kiss.


End file.
